


the break upper

by 100hearteyes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:03:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 103,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100hearteyes/pseuds/100hearteyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin doesn't have the most honourable job ever: she makes couples break up for a living. She unmasks the liars, the cheaters, and the deceivers. Marital justice, one might wishfully call it — and she gets paid for it. Clarke's only rule: don't fall in love with the target.</p><p>also</p><p>Lexa Woods has the perfect life, with the perfect job, the perfect friends, and the perfect fiancé. Problem? Said fiancé is a man — and Lexa is kind of sort of totally a lesbian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked 'Wanna bet?' I think you'll like this one as well :)
> 
> Okay, so I'm starting this story and writing as I go. This time I don't really have a super defined plan. I do know, very roughly, what I want to do though. Hope you like it, it's a very light fic (or so I expect) and I'm just having fun with it. Please don't judge Clarke. She's unmasking assholes.
> 
> This is the prologue, no Lexa. Our Commander will show up in the next one though o/
> 
> Oh and as always, forgive any silly mistakes, it's unbeta'd (as per usual).
> 
> Anyway, happy readings:

Clarke Griffin doesn’t have the most honourable job ever. In fact, she has what is possibly the least honourable job ever. What started as helping out a friend has since grown into— hell. Into something Clarke herself cannot even begin to describe.

It all began in college when Raven, one of her closest friends, started dating Finn Collins. He was, by all accounts, the perfect boyfriend: luscious hair, million-dollar smile, smouldering dark eyes, and seemingly undying dedication to his girlfriend. ‘Seemingly’ being the keyword, Clarke and her friends thought at the time. They had always been put off by his exceedingly gentle demeanour towards Clarke herself, so they concocted a rather ingenious plan designed to expose his wretched ways. Clarke would try and seduce Finn and, if successful, present the evidence to Raven. If unsuccessful — well, to be honest, they hadn’t really thought about that. Lucky for them, they did not need to: Finn took the bait after meagre teasing and soon he was all over Clarke like a pup in rut.

At first, Raven’s reaction surprised her friends: she turned against Clarke, denial clouding her judgement. Eventually though, she came around and finally saw who really was at fault there — her cheating boyfriend, with whom she broke up immediately after.

Other cases came up and soon Clarke was exposing dishonest boyfriends and girlfriends to their disheartened other halves all over campus. Once she exposed a guy who was taking advantage of a girl, using her as his ‘beard’. Then she started being asked to uncover secrets for other people.

Everything changed when one day Octavia, Bellamy’s sister and one of Clarke’s closest friends, suggested they make it a business. Everyone rejected the idea at first but when a client came waving with a dozen thousand dollar notes — none of them was able to say no to an extremely appealing deal. It was an easy job, too: seducing a rich prick to prove that he was a cheater so his wife could get the better end of the divorce settlement.

Clarke succeeded and rejoiced, then some thousand bucks richer and with a clear conscience, knowing she had exposed an asshole.

The business grew and the reasons for breaking couples up or discovering secrets got shadier — but by the they were all detached and filling their pockets. What was a broke couple when you could make some thousands? Besides, their ‘victims’ were always filthy rich — they could buy themselves a new boyfriend or girlfriend any day, anyway. At least that is what they kept telling themselves, perhaps in the hopes of being able to sleep at night after a particularly uncomfortable job.

Nowadays, Clarke does not need to tell herself that; she does not need to tell herself anything. It is a job. There are goals and honoraria and targets. There are no longer people; there are simply assets and variables and opportunities. Clarke has grown to love what she does — she is great at it. Whether she has to seduce or get secrets out of someone, Clarke is the best.

With secrets it is easy to explain. Clarke is naturally relatable and likeable. People see her and seem to trust her immediately; she has ‘one of those faces’. Helps that her ability for manipulation is virtually unmatched.

As for seduction, she has her assets. The eyes, the body, the personality, the sense of humour, the easy-going disposition, the hair — the voice. Oh the voice. People seem to go crazy for Clarke’s husky, sultry voice.

Clarke steals every scene. People seem to hang on to her every word and find comfort when she listens. She does not know why — she just know it happens every time.

This time was no different. It was easy to get close to Osias, the Nomads’ star quarterback, and earn his friendship. It was much more difficult to get him to bed; he was faithful to his wife Sienne until almost the very end. Still he strayed. Clarke recorded the audio; his moans for ‘Irina’ are quite the piece of evidence. Then a couple paparazzi pictures in a park bench, one while holding hands and another sharing a kiss, and they have enough material to create a social media scandal. Luckily for the NFL MVP, they are only going to show all this to his wife. Okay, so maybe he is not that lucky. But it _could_ be worse

Clarke knows what happens next. Breakup, divorce request, then a string of bad performances till the end of the season. The Nomads lose the play-off, nor even reaching their minimum season goal of getting to the Super Bowl, all blame gets pinned on Osias, the cheating husband and slumping player. Clarke shrugs. He did cheat. He will get over it. By now she has developed immunity to sympathy or remorse. All her targets are filthy rich and living the life; if they really loved their wives and husbands and boyfriends and girlfriends, they would not cheat. There is no room for pity in this line of business. Clarke has only one rule: don’t fall in love with the job.

After saying her goodbyes to Osias, Clarke arrives at Arkadia Café, the front for their unique business. According to the IRS, their café is at least one of the most popular in town. In reality, it is almost always empty — save for when the health inspectors drop by. Lincoln makes damn good croissants though.

Clarke greets the young baker and walks past the doors to the back, where the rest of the team awaits her with victorious smiles. Behind her shenanigans there is a group of people making things happen, which Clarke is eternally grateful for.

“Hell yeah Griffin!” Raven cheers, walking up to her and slinging an arm over her shoulders. “Great job, almost as good as if I’d done it myself.”

“You don’t ever do the job, Raven,” Clarke smiles back.

“That’s only because I’m in a stale relationship. With my own job,” the brunette adds with a laugh. “Some of us have actual jobs that don’t earn them enough to buy expensive cars and apartments in the heart of Manhattan.”

“You’re describing yourself,” Octavia chimes in with a quirked eyebrow.

Raven feigns a thoughtful expression, and then shrugs with a smug smile. “Yes. Yes I am.”

The other two roll their eyes. “You seem to forget that I’m technically a doctor,” Clarke argues. “And you’re lucky we keep you around.”

“Yeah I forgot you have a doctor’s degree and somehow find _this_ more fun.”

“It’s certainly more _pleasurable_ ,” the blonde tackles with a wink.

“Okay, _wives_ ,” Octavia intervenes again. “Enough with that. Clarke, how did it go?”

Just like that, everyone is all business again. Clarke hands the shorter brunette her phone. “You tell me. ’Irina’ sounds great in bed.”

Octavia rolls her eyes and heads to the computer, plugging the phone into it. Jasper steps forward then, showing Clarke his camera and the paparazzi pictures he took just a while ago. The blonde inspects them carefully and can’t help a frown at the end.

“You were careless, Jasper,” she scolds. “My face is almost visible.”

“Almost,” he emphasises. “But not quite. Don’t worry, Clarkey, you’re safe with me. My skills are unmatched.”

Clarke rests a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “And that’s why you’re with us. Keep up the great work, Jas.”

He smiles back and leaves, probably to beg Lincoln for some croissants. Bellamy comes up to Clarke then, his signature smirk drawing a smile from her as well.

“Well done, Princess. I heard you banged his brains out.”

She gives him a light, half amused half annoyed, shove. “Shut up Bellamy.”

“You should do that to me one day.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but smiles nonetheless. “Don’t be gross. Besides, we both know I’m not who you’re after,” she adds and is all too pleased when he grumbles unintelligibly, suddenly in a bad mood.

“We got you a new job,” he says, now rather brusquely, wanting to put an end to his own embarrassment. “Details on your desk, meeting here tomorrow at 3pm.”

Clarke frowns at the last bit of information. “Only the most secretive clients meet here.”

“Then you know how secretive they are,” Bellamy nods seriously. “They’ve got secrets spilling out their ass.” He gives her a light pat on the back and starts walking away towards his office. “Good job on the quarterback. My back account thanks you for the extra five grand.”

Clarke grins. It feels good to finish a job successfully. “Twenty five for me!” she shouts at Bellamy just as he’s opening the door to his office.

The only response he gives her is a middle finger over the shoulder.

* * *

Clarke skims over the details Bellamy left on her desk. It is not much: their new client is Azgeda Inc, a popular medium-high class clothing brand Clarke knows well. She personally prefers wearing Polis, it’s lighter, classier, and much more comfortable (prettier too), but she can see the appeal of the ‘icy and aggressive haute couture’ style. The representative that will work with them tomorrow is Echo White, a high rank within the company.

Instead of doing her own research, Clarke decides she’ll leave that to someone who can dig up much more, much faster. So she leaves her office and heads over to the tech room. Even before entering, she can hear the childish laughter coming from inside the room. Clarke sighs and rolls her eyes, only then opening the door.

As expected, Monty is in the tech room, surrounded by all the technology he and Raven created, and Jasper. The two best friends are laughing their heads off over something probably not even funny, Monty in his chair and Jasper sitting on the desk. Clarke crosses her arms, having to wait almost a minute for the two potheads to notice her. When they finally do, laughter dies down immediately.

“You two better not be stoned,” she warns.

“Not this time,” Jasper replies with a cheeky smile. When Clarke’s expression remains as serious as ever, with only an eyebrow rising to accentuate her lack of amusement, Jasper realises he’d better make himself scarce. “I’ll just— I’ll just go. Do my job,” he stutters, tripping over his own feet as he walks past her and leaves the room.

“How do you manage to remain so serious?” Monty asks once the door is closed behind Clarke.

She shrugs. “I don’t know, but I think it comes with practice,” she says with a shake of head and a smile. “You should tell him I don’t bite though.”

“And miss the chance to see him pee his pants like that every time you come in here?” Monty grins. “No way.”

Clarke chuckles and hands him the file on Azgeda Inc. “The lecture also goes to you. But I’ll let you get away with it this time.”

Monty takes the file and reads through it quickly. “If I dig up everything I can on Azgeda Inc, am I correct?”

“You know me so well. There’s not much on there.”

“More like nothing at all.” He puts down the file and turns to his computer, firing through the keyboard and a dozen windows already. “Don’t worry Clarke,” he assures as he types. “When I’m done looking them up, we’ll know more about Azgeda than Azgeda themselves.”

Clarke cannot argue with that, and gladly. She has seen the results of Monty’s magic many times before.

Sure enough, a few hours later, Clarke is heading back home with a huge file on Agzeda Inc sitting on her passenger seat. It is her date for tonight.

Clarke sighs to herself. As much as she loves her job — because yes, it is unusual, and some may find it ‘slutty’ but she likes it, she’s unmasking cheating bastards and handing them on a silver platter to people who can punish them for that — it has its downsides. The biggest of them being that if she is spending time in other people’s beds, she cannot really date anyone.

So Clarke is alone. She does not mind it all that much, but it sometimes leaves a nagging feeling of solitude. A ‘what if’.

Clarke finally gets home, taking the file upstairs. She lives in a rather large apartment in Manhattan, nothing stupidly big, but still quite luxurious. Clarke reckons that if she earns enough to buy herself something nice, then why not.

She places the files on the island counter in the middle of the kitchen and sits down on one of the stools, ready to go through what Monty has dig up.

Azgeda is part of a group of companies, Command, which owns others like Polis, Floudon, Blue Cliff, etc. The CEO of Polis, some Alexandria Woods woman, is the leader of the Command group. The CEO of Azgeda is a 50-year old woman called Virginia Queen, though everyone apparently calls her Nia. Her son, Roan, is the vice-president and her right-hand man, and expected heir to the metaphorical company throne. Echo White is third in the chain of command and a close friend of both Nia and Roan’s. Family business, Clarke observes.

Recently Azgeda stocks have experienced a historic peak with the release of their new line of winter coats and the announcement of the engagement between Roan and Ontari, a woman with a high position at none other than Polis. Things have been going great for Azgeda, so Clarke doesn’t imagine what they might want to ask of her.

Just as she’s starting to read what Monty dug up on the Command group and Polis, Clarke’s phone rings in her purse. She pulls it out, taking the call as soon as she sees who it is from.

“Hey mom.”

 _“Clarke, I’d like you to bring a pie for dinner today.”_ Clarke’s eyes widen impossibly. _Shit._ Dinner at her mom’s. She forgot. _“You didn’t forget, didn’t you, honey?”_

“What? No! No, of course not, mom. I’m just uh—“ she checks the time on her watch, 6:30 pm. “I’m just a little late.”

_“You can buy the pie if you want, sweetheart.”_

“No, no worries, I’ll make it. Can’t promise it’ll be great, but I’ll make it.”

There’s an indecisive pause on the other side of the line. _“Okay. Just try to be_ _here at 8:30 the latest.”_

“Sure thing, mom.”

_“Alright Clarke. I love you, see you later.”_

“Love you too, mom. See ya.”

After hanging up, Clarke looks at the files on the counter and sighs. She will have to read the rest tomorrow.

* * *

Clarke gets to the café just before 2:30. She didn’t have time to read about Command and Polis, but her friends will surely have her covered. Anyway, the most important parts — Azgeda — are all well studied.

At three pm sharp, young woman with light hair and icy brown glare enters the café, welcomed by Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia, and Raven. All formalities are over with pretty shortly and they can finally talk business, which the woman does without losing time.

“My name is Echo White and I’m the representative of Azgeda,” she says as she sits at one table, bringing her briefcase up to rest on her knees. She pulls something out of it, a small file, and lays it on the table. “You will have a budget of five million dollars for the job. It will be available for you on a bank account that you will be able to access freely once you sign these papers, with a card that will arrive shortly after the paperwork has been submitted to the bank. This budget is for everything that has to do with the job, from eating and travelling to accommodation or technology, even a flat tire. You can buy a damn yacht if you think it helps you. So as you can see, money is not an issue. Your colleague Mr Blake told me you were six total, so each of you will be given an advance payment of 25 thousand dollars — except Miss Griffin, who will be given 50 thousand. Take it as an incentive. If you complete the job, each of you will receive 75 thousand, while Miss Griffin will get 150. Does this seem fair to you?”

Clarke opens her mouth to demand equal payment for her and her friends, but Bellamy is faster, “Yes, ma’am.”

Echo nods solemnly. “Good. On to the specifics of the case, then.” She pulls out three photographs from her suitcase and lays them on the table before the group of four, facing them. “These are Alexandria Woods and Nathan Miller, CEO’s of Polis and Skysafe Inc, respectively. They have just announced their engagement and both companies’ stocks have gone sky-high.”

“You’re members of Command group, which is let by Alexandria herself,” Raven recalls. “Wouldn’t the current situation be in your best interest?”

Echo smiles cynically. “To put it simply: we want the top spot. We have an inside woman at Command and if we discredit Polis, the group will be ours. Miss Woods wants Skysafe to join the group, that’s the last thing we want. Breaking this couple up would lower their stock value. Marriage is a partnership and a constitution. If you can’t hold something so personal together, your partners won’t trust you to hold your own company together as well. Divorces and separations are discrediting to any businessperson. Besides, the end of the engagement would also mean the end of all relations between Polis and Skysafe. There is much to profit for Azgeda from this engagement going awry, _especially_ — and that is where you go in — if it goes down in… spectacular fashion,” she concludes with a wry smirk.

Octavia hums in agreement. “I see. So we break them up in rather scandalous way.”

“Yes,” Echo nods. “Submit everything to us in the end and we will decide what to do with it. The moment we have the material, the job is over. We will analyse everything and give you the money then.”

“Do we have a deadline?” Clarke asks.

“The marriage will be in four months. I want the information up until two weeks prior.”

“Alright.” Clarke takes the file with the bank documents and starts signing wherever it is needed. Once she is finished, she hands the papers back to Echo. “Consider it done.”

* * *

Monty is holding a little remote in his hand, standing in front of a projector and looking at his small audience. “Our targets: Alexandria Woods and Nathan Miller.” He steps aside and lets the image plaster itself on the white wall, presenting two figures.

One is an extremely good-looking man, with dark skin, a beautiful smile and probably the best beard in the whole state of New York. The second is most certainly the most gorgeous woman Clarke has ever seen. Piercing green eyes, brown curly hair braided behind her head, regal nose, full lips, killer jawline, high cheekbones, and long lean legs that seem to go on for miles. “Nathan and Alexandria dated for six months before announcing their engagement, just two months ago,” Monty starts.

“All very mathematical,” Raven notes. “Six months to get engaged, six months to get married… Six months to get divorced?”

Jasper laughs at her joke and the two high five, causing Clarke to roll her eyes. “Raven, Jasper,” she warns. Both her friends shut up right away.

Monty clears his throat. “They are media sweethearts, the press loves this couple. Unsurprisingly so: young, in power, good looking, and in love. They are very kind with each other,” images of the couple talking to each other with small smiles and holding arms follow. “But actual PDA is non existent. Not a kiss, no handholding. Best we got is a hug.”

“Have they ever been questioned about that?” Octavia speaks up.

“Yes. Nathan said that Alexandria is a very private person and prefers to save her affection for when they’re alone.”

An inappropriate whistle sounds to Clarke’s right and she doesn’t need to look to know it was Jasper, so she smacks the back of his head. He whines but doesn’t dare complain.

“So we go for the guy,” Octavia concludes easily. “They’re both straight and obviously very close. This Alexandria chick does seem very private so I think what Nathan said wasn’t just an excuse. PDA means nothing when analysing a couple like them.”

“I say we go for Alexandria.” Every head turns to Clarke with raised eyebrows. She shrugs. “What? She’s obviously gay.”

“Yeah and I’m obviously Pocahontas,” Octavia sasses back.

“I’m just saying. My gaydar is beeping like crazy.”

Raven smirks. “I think that’s your thirst.”

That earns her an eye roll. “Look, I’m telling you, we should go for her,” Clarke insists. “My gaydar is flawless.”

“She’s engaged to a dude, Clarke! Last time we believed you when you said a woman was gay,” Octavia argues, “Amanda Plummer slapped you in the face and walked out the door and we lost a job.”

“That was one time!”

“It was also the one time we decided to follow your ‘flawless gaydar’. And the one time we failed.”

Clarke crosses her arms and pouted. “Fine.”

Raven pats her leg in consolation. “I know she’s hot Griffin, but you can’t force her to be gay just ‘cause you wanna eat her out.”

“Whatever,” the blonde grumbles.

Bellamy stands up, obviously choosing to ignore the three women, and goes to stand beside Monty. He clears his throat. “It’s decided then. We go after Nathan Miller, and this time we don’t stop at little evidence. We have to pull as much as we can, the most obvious the better. This guy has to go _down_.”

“Well Clarke will go down on him for sure,” Jasper jokes, earning a glare from the blonde.

She looks at the screen, taking in the two people that compose the couple. Just talking to Echo gave her chills. Looking at those two makes her smile. They seem like good people. They do not seem like the cheating type.

“We’ll see,” she whispers to herself, a smile drawing in her lips as though she just accepted a challenge. Which she has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! If not, wait until the second chapter and then you can quit all you want lol. This is very light, apparently the only thing I can write rn, so yeah, stick with me on this one. Or maybe not. Your choice. But I hope you do because it's gonna be a fun ride. It's a funny story :)
> 
> As always, you can find me at 100hearteyes.tumblr.com


	2. "my gaydar is flawless"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look I kept my promise to update this weekend! hope you like this chapter :D sorry for any mistakes, they are my own!
> 
> honestly I was blown away by the response to the first chapter, so my wish is that this one doesn't disappoint.
> 
> good reads!

Planning is not as easy as one might think. You can’t just barrel into someone’s office, sit on their lap and whisper sweet nothings in their ear until they budge and take you to bed. You could do it, but success would most certainly not be guaranteed. So what Clarke and her team do is develop a plan that will grant her all that she needs to put her own charm into action. Looking for the when, the where; distracting people, creating opportunities; infiltrating Clarke into the target’s life seamlessly, as if she’d never not been there at all.

They spend a week mapping out all the places frequented by Nathan Miller as well as his every routine. Most of his time is spent at work, though everyday he takes an hour for lunch, always at the same place. He eats with colleagues on Mondays, with his fiancée on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, and usually with his right-hand man on Fridays. He starts work at nine am and leaves at seven pm. All pretty simple.

Clarke starts having lunch every day at the same place as Miller, knowing that his brain will soon unconsciously get accustomed to her face and when they actually meet, there will be a subconscious familiarity on his part and it will be easier to win his confidence. During the weekend he attends a club with his fiancée. Clarke is sure to go as well, taking the chance to have some fun with her friends.

For two weeks, they made no big move. Then they found out Miller was attending a conference and throwing an after party, and saw that as the perfect opportunity to strike.

* * *

To say that the conference is boring is a gross understatement. Clarke thinks that spilling her guts out, making tapestry with them, untangling the tapestry, and then getting the guts back in her body would be more entertaining than this. Counting every tile in the ceiling and on the floor 3.07 times would be more fun. She would even rather read a book on the reproductive cycle of bees.

Finally the torture is over and she can get on with the actual plan.

After being unable to introduce herself (hardly a thorn in their carefully crafted plan), Clarke manages to infiltrate the crowd that drives to Miller’s party. That is when Bellamy and Octavia’s magic happens.

The siblings are a well-oiled team. Jasper is their personal driver and paparazzo, Monty is in charge of all tech and Raven is much needed support, but it is the Blakes that make things happen.

Clarke leaves the conference and enters the back seat of her car, which is driven by a beaming Jasper. He pulls away from the curb and into the road, following the flock of cars ahead.

“Attire is formal,” he informs as he takes something from the passenger seat and passes it to the back with his free hand. “Octavia chose this for you to wear. Put on the earpiece, Monty will help you recall every name you need to know by heart.”

Clarke smiles and starts changing into the clothes Octavia chose for her. It’s a beautiful set with a black top and a white skirt, and Clarke loves it. The young Blake really knows what to choose for her.

Once she is done, she puts on the earpiece and takes the tablet that rest elegantly on a tray designed and built into the car by Raven. “Monty?”

The younger man’s voice immediately makes itself heard from the other side of the line. “Hey Clarke! First of all, good luck.”

She chuckles as she unlocks the tablet, “Thanks.”

“Okay so, swipe as I talk. First of the list is Nate Miller, obviously. Extensive shoes and watches collections. Compliment those, even if what he’s wearing is the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. Alexandria Woods. The fiancée. Quite standoffish, I would avoid her if I were you.

“Virginia ‘Nia’ Queen, our employer. More like the Ice Queen. She’s not the nicest woman ever, but she pays well so try to be discreet and courteous around her. Don’t piss her off. Oh and compliment her hairdo; she’s quite proud of it from what I could gather. Roan, her son. He’s engaged to Ontari, who works at Command. He’s kinda rough and reserved, but a nice guy overall. As for Ontari… try not to piss her off either.

“Indra Tombom, Lexa’s right-hand person. She’s a woman of few words and can be positively terrifying. She’s fiercely loyal to Lexa so you should avoid her if you want to seduce Miller. Anya Odon: Lexa’s best friend. If Indra is terrifying, Anya could make you shit your pants with a glance. Avoid her at all costs.

“Harper Sinclair and Zoe Monroe. Miller’s best friends. If you manage to get along with them, then your work is halfway done. Harper is snarky, Monroe is more sombre. They’re both fun to be around though, at least according to what I've read.”

“Thanks for info Monty,” Clarke says as she closes the tablet.

“No problem Clarke. Good luck out there.”

She takes off the earpiece and places it back on the tray, along with the tablet. The car pulls to a stop and Clarke leans into the driver’s seat, dropping a gentle kiss on Jasper’s cheek.

“See you later Jas,” she smiles, opening the door and getting out of the car.

“Break a leg!” he exclaims as the door closes.

Clarke climbs the steps to whatever building that is, following the crowd into a rather chic party hall. She sees the guards at the entrance, making sure no one enters without an invitation, and spots the one she is looking for. With a smile, Clarke approaches Bellamy’s undercover figure.

“Griffin,” she informs, and he pretends to check the list of allowed names.

Bellamy gestures to the hall behind him. “Welcome to the Command five-year anniversary party.”

“Nice suit by the way,” she comments as she walks past him, quietly enough so that only he can hear.

He smirks in response. “Just remember the plan, Princess.”

Clarke winks at him, an assurance that she has not forgotten it. She enters the party hall and her jaw drops to the floor in awe. Whoever prepared it for the party has excellent taste. There’s a dance area and a standing zone for people to simply talk, as well as a dining area (Clarke’s instant favourite) with many round tables full of people. There are beautiful stone staircases leading to a higher level and beautiful candelabra fall from the ceiling, illuminating the whole room.

Clarke feels someone standing beside her and needs only hear their voice to know who they are. “Well this is some rich people shit.”

She smiles at Raven’s straightforwardness. “You’re rich too, Reyes.”

“Yeah but not _this_ level of rich. I feel poor next to these people,” the brunette scoffs. “I bet this Alexandria chick has a flat next to Central Park.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Stop making assumptions based on beautiful parties.”

“When this is over, you’ll owe me a hundred bucks.”

“Fine,” the blonde shrugs, and takes off to work her skills.

Clarke spots Miller ahead, in deep conversation with the lecturer from earlier. She puts on her shiniest smile and walks over to her target.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she cuts in sheepishly, “but I don’t think we’ve yet been introduced, Mr Miller. My name is Clarke Griffin.”

The young turns to her and smiles warmly, extending a hand. “I’m Nathan Miller, but please call me Nate. This is Thelonious Jaha, legendary lecturer.”

“Oh I know, I attended the one today,” Clarke smiles widely and both men’s look of approval tells her she’s overcome the first hurdle. “Such a pleasure to meet you both.”

Then Nate narrows his eyes at her and asks the question she has been expecting. “Haven’t we met before?”

Clarke smiles. The two weeks eating at that stuck-up restaurant paid off. She shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure we haven’t. But you know, I’ve got one of those faces,” she quips.

Nate nods. “Maybe that’s it.” He then turns to Jaha. “Do you agree that Miss Griffin has one of those faces?”

“Absolutely not,” the older man answers resolutely. “Miss Griffin is too remarkable a beauty to have one of those faces.”

Clarke laughs at the compliment and pretends to be bashful. She smiles at Nate, biting her bottom lip. “Do you share Mr Jaha’s opinion?”

“Definitely,” the host smiles kindly.

“Do any of you gentlemen want a drink?” Clarke offers and earns nods and yes thank you’s from both her interlocutors.

She leaves their side and strides towards the open bar, spotting a familiar brunette behind the counter. They exchange subtle smiles as Clarke approaches the bar.

“Three Martini Rosso‘s please,” Clarke asks, sitting on a stool. Octavia nods and starts preparing the drinks.

“You are either very sad or very generous.”

Clarke’s head turns towards the source of the unknown voice and finds a gorgeous brunette in black pants and a light white top looking at her with amusement in those remarkable green eyes. Alexandria Woods is sitting on the stool beside her and her lips sport no smile, but the glint in her gaze betrays her apparent stoicism.

“There’s a third option, you know?” Clarke smirks, leaning just a bit closer to the brunette.

The woman’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh really? And what is it?”

Clarke’s smirk widens. “I’m very ambitious.”

“Ambitious?”

“Nothing like paying for two very important people’s drinks,” she answers with a shrug.

A beautifully sculptured eyebrow rises. “Would you pay for my drink?”

“Depends,” Clarke smirks, feigning ignorance. “Are you very important?”

Lexa scoffs. “One might say I am extremely important.” She extends a hand to Clarke, who promptly takes it. “Lexa Woods. Owner of Command and Polis.”

Clarke is surprised with the softness of Lexa’s skin. “Clarke Griffin. Human disaster.”

This actually pulls a smile from the tightly wound brunette. “Clarke,” she repeats, and the blonde tries not to swoon at the way Lexa says her name. She barely succeeds. “It’s a pleasure.”

Clarke makes the mistake of locking eyes with Lexa and finds herself gulping at the sheer intensity of those emerald orbs of the brunette’s. Then she realises she still has not let go of Lexa’s hand and takes it away quickly, slightly taken aback by the effect the CEO has had on her.

Fortunately, Clarke is saved by three drinks being placed between them. She looks at Octavia, who is throwing her a pointed glare. “Thanks.” Then she turns to Lexa, smiling apologetically. “Gotta go. But it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Woods.”

“Please, call me Lexa.”

“Okay,” Clarke accepts and shoots the brunette her most charming grin. “See you later, Lexa.”

* * *

After talking for a good while with Jaha and Miller, Clarke is feeling frustrated. Despite being nice and kind, Nate has shown no sign of interest so far. Usually by now, with a few drinks down their throats, her targets let their eyes linger for a moment longer on her cleavage or her ass or her eyes. Miller, however, seems totally impervious to Clarke’s charms. His loyalty to Lexa seems to be rock-solid.

In the middle of their chat, Clarke momentarily turns to find Raven and subtly gestures for the brunette to come over to where she is. Moments later, she is introducing Raven Reyes to the two men.

The brunette then takes Jaha’s arm and starts walking him away from Miller and Clarke. “Let me tell you about that time I made a top tech NASA lab go boom… and got a promotion.”

Nate chuckles as the pair walk further away. “Does Miss Reyes make a lot of things go boom?”

“You can call her Raven. And you can call _me_ Clarke,” the blonde states, resting a hand on his upper arm. “And yes. She has a special talent for making things explode.”

He seems completely unaware of the seductive physical contact. “How about you? You still haven’t told me what you do for a living.”

“I’m in the divorce business,” Clarke half lies.

“That’s unusual.”

“And a goldmine,” she beams, and yet again he remains perfectly oblivious. “Can I get you another drink?”

“I would like that, thank you.”

Clarke moves to stand before him and places her hands on his chest, starting to adjust the knot of his tie at a torturously slow pace. “Can’t have a messy tie ruining how handsome you look with your amazing watch and shoes,” she blatantly flirts, speaking in a low and sultry voice.

Miller simply chuckles. “Thanks. Lexa is always berating me for not tying the knot right.”

“Good thing I’m here to tie it for you,” Clarke winks as she finishes the job. Again, he seems to completely miss the intent of her actions.

Clarke walks away to get the drinks, frustrated at Nate’s total lack of reciprocation. How can she seduce a man that cannot be seduced? How can he be so faithful to Lexa that he seems to be totally oblivious to the fact that there is another beautiful, fuckable woman in the room?

Clarke is relieved to find the bar completely empty save for Octavia. She sits down on one of the stools and lets out an aggravated huff. The younger woman quirks a brow at that.

“What’s up?”

“He just,” Clarke raises her hands in defeat. “He just won’t even look at me. Not a glance.”

“You have to be more forward.”

“Octavia, I _winked_ at him. I put my hands on his chest. I adjusted the knot of his tie and said some shit about being there to tie it for him. I might as well grab his dick and drag him to the closest bedroom!”

The brunette laughs heartily at Clarke’s predicament, but shuts up immediately when the blonde throws her a murderous glare.

“Maybe you should do exactly that,” she sneers as she lays a drink in front of her friend.

Clarke takes a sip of what she then realises is a very strong drink. “Yeah I’ll save that for the second date.”

That’s the moment someone chooses to sit beside Clarke and ask for a drink too. The blonde turns and finds piercing green eyes fixing her with a curious yet somewhat hostile stare. She can’t help but smile at the newcomer.

“Hey again, Lexa,” she greets with a growing grin.

“I suggest that you stop.”

Clarke is taken aback by her aloof hostility. Just an hour ago Lexa was being so charming. “Stop what?”

“Stop trying to seduce my fiancé. He is absolutely faithful to me, you’re making a fool out of yourself.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “Jealous, are we? Afraid I’ll steal your beau?”

“Not at all,” the brunette states matter-of-factly, and Clarke fully believes her for some reason. “I simply do not appreciate the way it makes you and my fiancé look in the eyes of my actual and potential associates. Believe it or not, there _is_ such thing as bad press.”

With that she stands up and starts walking away, leaving a dumbfounded Clarke behind.

“Miss wait!” It is Octavia placing a drink in front of Lexa’s previous seat. The CEO turns around with a questioning look. “You forgot your drink.”

“It’s for my fiancé,” Lexa answers with a pointed look at Clarke, and then effectively walks away.

A few moments later, the blonde is still completely bewildered. She turns to Octavia abruptly, a hungry glint in her eyes. “Are you sure I can’t seduce _her_ instead?”

“Clarke, she basically put a knife to your throat and told you to get her hands off her fiancé.”

“Yeah, and it was the gayest thing ever.”

“How is telling you to stay away from her _male_ fiancé gay?”

“She wasn’t even jealous, O,” Clarke insisted. “She was worried about bad press. Besides, she’s practically wearing a suit.”

Octavia takes to cleaning some glasses and points at her friend judgingly. “That’s stereotyping and you know it. You’re blinded by your thirst, Clarkey.”

“Thirst has nothing to do with it. My gaydar _screams_ whenever she’s around,” the blonde explains. “And she’s easily the hottest person in the room.”

“Hey!”

“After you and Raven of course,” Clarke concedes with a smile. She grabs the two drinks and stands up. “Time to return to my oblivious date.”

* * *

The party has been going on for at least two hours and still Clarke has made no progress. She has no idea how much more obvious she can be. Sometimes she catches Lexa staring at them from across the room, a glower in those mesmerizing green eyes. Clarke only smirks in response, returning her attention to Miller — but only after letting her eyes lock with the brunette’s for a few seconds. She does her best to ignore the way her heart beats just a little bit faster during those fleeting moments.

Clarke is deep in conversation with Nate about security systems (she did her homework) when suddenly the earth moves. When it happens a second time just a second later, she realises it is not moving, but rather shaking. She looks up at Miller in terror and can see he is in no better shape.

This was not in the plans. There is an actual earthquake happening in freaking New York. Unless Raven came up with something crazy (which is not that unlikely now that she thinks of it), this is an actual, natural event. And Clarke is freaking out.

Still she sees a window of opportunity to do her job (compartmentalising is apparently her forte) and grabs Miller by the waist, bringing their bodies flush together. He wraps his arms around her, but it all feels too nice, too friendly. There is absolutely no sexual tension between them.

“Clarke,” he whispers, keeping his composure amidst her fear. “We have to get out of here and look for a safe spot. There’s safe rooms downstairs.”

Clarke nods numbly and follows him down the stairs, which everyone is seemingly doing. Just after she gets to the lower level, a swarm of people runs by and Clarke suddenly loses sight of Miller.

Just as soon as the chamber filled up, it goes completely empty, the ground still shaking dangerously under Clarke’s feet. All alone, she feels the fear creep through her body, causing everything in her to tingle and a shiver to run up her spine.

She’s alone. There is no one around her. How did everyone just disappear?

How can she be in this situation? Why is she alone of all people? Why her? Why now? Why this? She’s going to die, she’s sure of it. The whole building will collapse on her and kill her. Crush her like a bug. She has never been so sure of anything in her life.

Suddenly strong arms circle her waist and pull her down and into safety. Clarke feels herself drop below the floor, her fall cushioned by a body.

The room is not completely dark, but her eyes have a hard time adjusting to the dim lighting after staring wide-eyed around the intensely lit chamber above. She feels the body slip from under her and makes out a silhouette standing to close what she supposes is some sort of hatch.

Clarke seats back against the wall and feels her eyes finally adjust to the scarce lighting. She is in some sort of panic room, with thick concrete walls, and someone is sitting in front of her.

Long brown curly hair. Sharp jawline. Plump pink lips. Chiselled cheekbones. Impeccable nose. Concerned green eyes. Clarke’s own blue eyes widen but then a smirk settles on her lips. “Well this is awkward.”

Even in the almost dark, Clarke can see Lexa’s forest green eyes roll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments! kudos! middle fingers! leave 'em all below ;)
> 
> oh and please tell me if you want a lexa pov chapter. I'm thinking of maybe doing it next but I'd like your opinions. anyway, I hope you liked the chapter, the story has only just begun!


	3. "well this is awkward"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took too long, I had the worst week x) I'm not entirely sure about this chapter, but I had to post it, I'm really trying to update weekly and it had already been two weeks since chapter two.
> 
> This is a short one, 100% Clexa. It's Clarke torturing poor Lexa basically. They're so cute.
> 
> Well, hope you like it :)

“A simple ‘thank you’ would not be entirely unwelcome.”

Clarke smirks and stands up, striding to Lexa’s side and sitting down next to her, back pressed against the wall. Now she can see Lexa’s face perfectly. The brunette shifts uncomfortably, as though the blonde’s closeness burns. Clarke smiles cheekily at her.

“Thank you.”

Lexa nods. “You’re welcome, Miss Griffin.”

The blonde’s eyes roll and she can’t help a groan. “Please, call me _Clarke_.”

“You’re welcome, Clarke,” Lexa replies, and already the blonde regrets having corrected her, because the way the ‘r’ rolls off the brunette’s tongue and she clicks the ‘k’ is all kinds of criminal. “Was your corner so tight that you had to come sit next to me?”

The question surprises Clarke, who turns to her saviour with a quirked eyebrow. Their shoulders brush with the movement and Lexa practically flinches. “If my presence bothers you so much, why did you save me?”

Lexa’s aggravated sigh only contributes to Clarke’s further amusement. “I would be a pretty terrible person if I just left you there during an earthquake. And don’t act so surprised, shall I remind you that you were all over my fiancé ever since you arrived?”

Clarke smirks and lightly bumps their shoulders. “Guilty as charged. Not my fault that you two are such a good looking pair.” The look of disbelief Lexa shoots her makes her comment fully worth it.

“Do you just go around flirting with everyone you see?”

“Only the ones that catch my eye,” Clarke shrugs.

Lexa raises a sceptical eyebrow at her. “Has my fiancé caught your eye?”

The snort that leaves Clarke’s mouth is wholly unbecoming. “Have you _met_ him?”

Lexa narrows her eyes in confusion as she looks at Clarke like she’s crazy. “Of course I have, we are engaged. I would never get betrothed to someone I have never met.”

Now it’s Clarke’s turn to stare at Lexa like she has two heads. “I mean his appearance.”

Lexa’s eyes widen as understanding dawns on her. “Oh. Yes, of course.” She adopts a questionable look of confident appreciation. “There is a reason we are engaged, Clarke. Nathan is a… hunk.”

Clarke decides that she has never heard anything so gay in her whole life. She chuckles at Lexa’s obvious ineptness at complimenting her fiancé’s physique, and places her hand atop the brunette’s in a gesture of mock comfort. “You tried.”

Lexa grumbles with rolling eyes and Clarke is positive she can see the brunette pout. It is adorable.

“He’s hard to get to, I’ll give you that,” Clarke speaks up after some moments of silence as she stretches her legs in front of herself. “For some reason he won’t even look at me.”

“Nathan is fiercely loyal to me, he would never cheat,” Lexa replies proudly. “He’s inflexibly faithful.”

“No man is inflexibly faithful. They all break eventually.”

Lexa smirks at Clarke’s words. “Nathan will not.”

“ _Please_ ,” the blonde scoffs. “Have you seen me?”

Green eyes rake over her body. Lexa swallows. “…Yes.”

A burning silence settles between them as their eyes lock for several seconds. Clarke is the first to break the link, averting her gaze to one of the concrete walls. She barely knows Lexa yet her presence is deeply alluring. She should not be affected by someone’s voice, eyes, lips, personality— hell, someone’s _everything_ like this.

“Look,” she sighs. “I’m flirtatious by nature. But it was never my intention to steal your fiancé.”

It is not a lie. Her intention was merely to strip Lexa of her fiancé, not make him her own. It still is, Clarke reminds herself.

“And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” she continues. “I guess sometimes I go too far when trying to prove a point.”

Lexa stares coldly at Clarke, distant green eyes giving nothing away. The blonde feels uncomfortable under the piercing gaze, almost like Lexa is searching her very soul. But she cannot be, because souls are not material things. She is just trying to intimidate Clarke.

After long seconds, Lexa nods at last. “Apology accepted.”

Clarke cannot quite place the happiness she feels bubbling up her chest and that prompts her to smile more brightly than she remembers. “Friends then?”

Lexa scoffs. "We are barely acquainted."

"We could get past that and go straight to friends."

The brunette eyes Clarke with suspicion. After a few seconds, however, she nods reluctantly. “I guess.”

"Good," Clarke announces, clasping her hands together. "You think the whole shaking thing is over?"

Lexa shrugs. "No idea. Probably not."

"We've been here forever."

"Actually," the brunette checks her watch, "we have been here for only ten minutes. And it's called an earthquake."

"Tomayto, tomahto."

"No, Clarke. It's called an earthquake. There is literally no other way to say it."

The blonde's eyebrows raise in challenge. She pulls out her phone and quickly googles earthquake, accessing Wikipedia. "'Earthquake'," she reads, "'also known as a quake, tremor or temblor'. Looks like there are literally other ways to say it."

The way Lexa rolls her eyes is all too adorable. "'Whole shaking thing' is certainly not one of them."

"You're cute," Clarke teases.

"You don't know me."

"Then let me."

Lexa turns to her, a small frown between her brow. "Let you what?"

Clarke catches her gaze and their eyes lock. Clarke is breathless just by looking into those deep forest green orbs. "Know you." I comes out low and husky, and for a fleeting moment Clarke is sure that Lexa's stare flickered down to her lips, only to return to blue eyes right away. It leaves Clarke out of breath and she cannot bring herself to break contact with the brunette. She catches herself lean a few inches closer, and suddenly she can feel Lexa's breath hot against her lips. This is not how the night was supposed to go, but as their breaths mingle in the small space between their lips, Clarke can't quite shake how right it feels; how maybe this was not the plan, but it seems to be the best possible outcome. Nevertheless, she has work to do, a mission to complete, and 200 thousand dollars to add to her bank account, and she cannot afford to be distracted. Lexa could be a crush, a rather dashing one at that, but she would be no more than that. Better stop it while she can. "As a friend," Clarke breathes out, and all of a sudden, as each leans back as though nothing happened, the tension building around them seems to fade. "Let me be your friend."

Lexa purses her lips together, and seems to really ponder the possibility of an actual friendship for the first time. "I can do that," she finally relents. "If you stop being insufferable."

"That's unfair, insufferable is my middle name," Clarke smirks. Upon seeing the eye roll of the brunette, however, she backtracks a bit. "But I can try. I can at least try not to make your life a living hell."

"Surprisingly enough, I can do with that. And stop flirting with my fiancé."

Clarke wiggles her eyebrows and quips, "Can't make any promises."

A new glower travels Clarke's way, but this one comes with a glint of amusement. "You're being insufferable again."

Clarke pokes Lexa's side. “Aw come on Lexi, unravel a bit."

The glare Lexa shoots her is all but murderous, but there is a hint of something, something Clarke cannot place, that softens it. "Don't call me that."

"Oh I'm so calling you that now," Clarke laughs and pokes Lexa again, "Lexi."

The brunette pouts and frowns, and it is wholly endearing. "If you call me Lexi, I will call you Clurph."

Clarke raises her hands in mock surrender with a wide grin. "Fine. You win." Being locked in a panic room with Lexa is turning out to be a lot more fun that she thought. "I'll have to come up with another name for you, then."

"No," Lexa stops her immediately. "No names."

Clarke takes the chance to poke at her ribs once more. "You're no fun."

"Successful CEO's are not supposed to be fun," Lexa scoffs. "We are supposed to be effective. Calculating. Brilliant."

"I'll teach you how to have some fun," the blonde quips with a wink.

"That is not what I meant," Lexa pouts, and Clarke relents a bit.

"I was just teasing you, trying to make you laugh," she shrugs. "Time spent laughing is time spent with the gods." **  
**

"Japanese proverb, overused," Lexa deadpans. "And not at all true."

Clarke perks an eyebrow at her words. "Why not?"

"Time spent laughing is time spent doing nothing. Seconds, minutes, hours, _years_ of life wasted because you had nothing better to do than crack a joke."

"We need lighthearted moments in our lives sometimes," Clarke argues, more than a little perturbed by the all too-serious style of life Lexa seems to lead. "I mean, why make all the money in the world if you don't allow yourself some time to enjoy it?"

Lexa fixes her gaze on the wall in front of them, her chin raised slightly. "My off-spring will enjoy it."

"That's very noble, but what off-spring? We both know you won't have children with Nate. At least not in the conventional way."

The stare Lexa levels her with is filled with suspicion, a bit of hostility, and, dare Clarke say, admission of truth. "Do not overstep, Clarke."

The blonde nods, reckoning that she had better stay within her boundaries. She doesn't want to annoy or push Lexa away. It feels weirdly good to have her there, to talk to her, or simply enjoy her company. Not to mention Lexa is astoundingly beautiful. Most importantly, though, keeping her as a friend might prove essential to get to Nate.

They fall into an awkward silence Clarke does not really know how to break.

"There are other ways, you know?"

Clarke perks up at the remark. "What?"

"There are other ways," Lexa says reluctantly. "To have children without— being... with— without the conventional ways."

Clarke's heart breaks at the veiled confession. Her gaze softens and she places a comforting hand on Lexa's upper arm. "I know."

"Not that I would not want to be with Nate," the brunette adds swiftly, as if she just realised what she really said. "I do— I am."

"Of course," Clarke concedes without a drop of sarcasm in her voice. Now is not the time. Lexa needs this. She needed to speak her soul before, and now she needs this reassurance.

Lexa turns to her and her remarkable green eyes bore into Clarke's blue ones. "You know what I mean... Yes?"

Virescent eyes search for something in pools of breathless blue, and what Clarke gives back is recognition, acceptance, and maybe a little bit of hope. "Yes," she whispers, overwhelmingly aware of the sheer intimacy of both their words.

Lexa turns back to look at the wall ahead of them and gives a minute nod. "Then you know not to speak of this."

"To anyone," Clarke nods.

"Yes."

Another minute of silence ensues, until Clarke breaks it when she turns her body towards her new friend. "Lexa," she speaks as she rests her hand on the brunette's forearm, and Lexa turns her head to her. "I might not be the most... morally elevated person in the world, but I do know that the only person that can hold you accountable for who you are or the things you do is yourself. You owe nobody anything." A slight upturn of plump lips, a hint of a smile, is enough to warm Clarke's heart. "Also," she adds with a playful tone, "you're too cute."

"Stop calling me that," Lexa retorts with aggravation but also amusement.

"You can't judge me for calling things what they are," Clarke laughed, and poked Lexa's side. "You're cute, there's nothing you can do about it."

"There has to be something I can do to make you stop poking me then."

Clarke laughs, entirely too pleased with herself. "Nope."

She tries to poke Lexa again, but this time the brunette grabs her hand, holding it in place and away from her side. "You are so annoying. How old are you? Seven?"

The blonde shoots her cheekiest grin. "Five actually."

"You do behave as such," Lexa deadpans with a raised eyebrow, and there it is again, that glint of amusement and warmth in her eyes. Clarke takes advantage of her momentarily distraction to try and poke her again. "No!" Lexa manages to grab her other hand, now having both of the blonde's hands in her grasp. "No more poking."

"I have to  _do_ something, Lexa. I hate small spaces," Clarke groans in protest.

"We will be out in no time."

"How long? The wait is stressing me out."

"Don't worry, Clarke," Lexa says softly, and Clarke almost swoons at the way the brunette says her name. "You will be safe."

 _Friends_ , Clarke thinks, her inner voice dripping with sarcasm.  _Good luck with that_.

"Okay but that doesn't mean that I'm not bored. And poking you is way too much fun," she adds as she tries to repeat her previous actions, but Lexa holds her hands steady. Clarke makes another attempt, but Lexa pulls both their hands down and suddenly they are that much closer to each other.

Clarke inhales. This cannot possibly be happening. Once again their breaths mingle, and this time it is Clarke who lets her gaze fall to Lexa's full lips. When she returns it to green eyes, Clarke notes that she should be more surprised to find that said eyes are too focused on her own pink lips to look back at her. Lexa averts her stare from Clarke's lips and directs it back to pools of blue, and it takes Clarke's breath away. How are those forest green eyes so beautiful, so full of emotion, so deep? If Lexa's face does not express any emotions, her eyes most certainly do. Looking into them is like drowning in a swirl of sensations, like having your five senses flooded all at once by a myriad of what Clarke can only define as everything.

Her own gaze escapes to Lexa's lips again and she feels herself lean closer, her own lips ghosting over the brunette's. Lexa blinks once, twice, then inhales deeply and gulps, and her lips part seemingly involuntarily. Clarke's hand comes up to cup Lexa's cheek and she smiles softly. After a moment, Lexa's own hand rests atop Clarke's on her face. "Friends," she murmurs, her eyes shining almost apologetically. Clarke nods and leans away from Lexa, just barely, but enough to break the tension.

That is the moment someone chooses to bang at the hatch above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be next Sunday the latest!


	4. "they all break eventually"

Lexa stands up abruptly to open the hatch and the light floods the panic room, blinding Clarke for a moment. When her eyes adjust to the light, Lexa is already gone.

The blonde blinks, confused and perhaps a little offended that Lexa did not even have the decency to say goodbye. She shrugs it off nonetheless, perfectly aware that the last few moments of their time together were not the most beneficial to their budding friendship.

Is it even a friendship though?

Clarke decides that it is, it has to be. Standing up, she climbs the ladder and leaves the panic room. As she strides through the ballroom towards the exit, she spots Octavia and Raven chatting and Bellamy making sure everyone is safe. Obviously, she cannot go to them, as it would raise suspicion — the only person she is supposed to know is Raven, and even so, they arrived separately. Clarke texts them and the rest of the team to meet her in the back of the café and leaves the building, Jasper’s car already awaiting her outside.

“So?” he asks as soon as Clarke settles onto the back seat. “How was it?”

“Everyone survived the earthquake, it seems,” she remarks. “But no progress with Miller.”

“I like your priorities,” Jasper smirks as he pulls off the curb and heads to the café.

“People always come first, Jas.” Clarke frowns, knowing things could have gone awry tonight. “Especially those I care about.”

“Good thing you never care about your targets, or you’d be skinning yourself alive each time you have to screw them over.”

“Very funny,” Clarke replies dryly, but knows it is just another one of his lame jokes. As hard as he tries, Jasper has never been a funny guy, at least not on purpose. He is definitely funnier by accident. That thought pulls Clarke’s lips into a smirk. “Sorry we have to head to HQ now.”

Jasper shrugs good-naturedly and this is what makes his presence so pleasant, and him to be such a good friend in Clarke’s books: his unwavering good humour and light-heartedness. He is always happy, and with that, he makes everyone around him happier as well.

“Work is work, boss.”

“I’m not your boss,” Clarke counters with aggravation.

“I know, but I love how annoyed you get when I call you that.”

“Shut up,” she chuckles, and leans back against the leather seat, hoping to get some rest before they get to the café.

 

* * *

 

“No. No no no no no.”

“Why not?!”

“Because, Clarke!” Octavia bites with exasperation. “We have a plan! Can you please stick to it?”

“I’m doing my best, but it’s hard when the guy doesn’t even look at me!”

Their heated discussion has everybody silent and looking down, even Bellamy and Raven, who usually have their own two scents to add to the conversation. This time, though, they don’t even dare chime in.

Octavia crosses her arms, a hostile look on her face. “Why am I not surprised? Why am I not surprised that _once again_ , everyone else’s ideas suck to you and you want to do everything _your_ way?”

Clarke balls her hands into fists at her sides, anger brimming all over. “You know that’s not true. You _know_ that I always, _always_ agree with your plans.”

“Yet you always, _always_ find a way to stomp all over them and do things your own way.”

“That’s not true!” Clarke snaps. “I only improvise when things don’t go according to plan, but somehow for you that’s some sort of unforgivable sin, because how dare I try to fix _your_ shitty planning!”

At this point, Bellamy has to grab Octavia and hold her firmly to keep her from jumping Clarke and probably award her with a good old punch in the face. Raven steps in them, holding both hands in the air.

“Look guys,” she intervenes, voice calm. “You both have strong personalities, Griffin more artistic with her words and Pocahontas here more into punching people till they agree with her. But can we please, just this once, work together peacefully?”

Clarke and Octavia both scoff at her words. “We’ve worked together peacefully more often than not,” the smaller woman argues.

“And we’re perfectly capable of doing so in this case,” Clarke agrees.

“Yeah,” Octavia nods resolutely. Bellamy’s grip on her loosens and she steps out of it, regarding the blonde with determination. “Let’s show these bitches how to work together, Clarke.”

By now, Clarke already knows that this was Raven’s intention all along, but she decides to ignore the fact that she was so obviously manipulated and focus on the good results. She nods at Octavia with a smirk. “Let’s.”

“Good. Then go on doing your thing with Miller.”

“But Octavia—“

“Clarke, I’m not outing anyone,” the brunette cuts her off gently, and Clarke listens intently. “First of all, we don’t have solid proof that Lexa’s gay. Second of all, and most important, we left the outing business behind a long time ago. If she’s in the closet, we’re not forcing her out of it.”

Clarke considers her words. They discussed it a couple of years ago. Outing people is just too cruel, too disrespectful. One thing is exposing the cheaters or stealing secrets. But exposing someone’s sexuality when they have purposely kept it a secret is harming them in a personal and unjustifiable way. It is too personal, and without enough reason to force people into a change that they have shielded themselves from out of fear. They are not doing anything wrong by not being straight or remaining in the closet; there is therefore no reason why they should be punished for that, as good as the prize might be.

Clarke nods pensively. Octavia is right. She has to keep working her current angle and try to seduce Miller. Still, it’s hard not to go after Lexa when it’s such an easy catch. And maybe, just maybe, she does not want to seduce Lexa strictly because it would be a much easier job. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more. Of course there is.

Or maybe, just maybe, Clarke should just grow up and do her job. _One rule_ , she whispers to herself in her mind, and just like that her whole demeanour changes.

“We need a new plan,” she states, leaving no room for discussion. “We have to go after Miller, and we have to do it hard. No smoothing it out this time, we’re pulling out all the stops.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Raven asks sceptically.

“We get him drunk,” Jasper suggests.

“That’s rape,” Clarke responds immediately.

“Guys aren’t raped,” he mocks, “they’re lucky.”

“No, Jasper. If he’s drunk, he cannot give consent. That’s rape.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “How about you invite him for dinner?”

“He’s engaged, besides we’re not close enough for that to not sound weird.”

“A party,” Raven suggests.

“Another one?”

“How about Lexa?”

All heads turn to Octavia in confusion. “You just said we wouldn’t target Lexa,” Bellamy argues.

“And we won’t,” his sister shrugs. “But clearly Clarke gets along with Lexa better than Nate. We can use _Lexa_ to get to _him_.”

“How?”

“You said you made friends with her.” Clarke tries not to feel bad about having avoided mentioning their two almost-kisses earlier. “Use that. Go out to lunch with her, but always go pick her up so you can talk to Miller. Give her something nice, but leave a present for _him_ too. Visit her office, but take a chance to have a private talk with Miller in _his_ office and hit on him.”

“How would that help? I want to sleep with him, not become best buddies.”

“Easy,” Raven chimes in, understanding what Octavia means. “He seems to be the type of guy who only warms up to people after he’s known them for a while. He’s very friendly, I experienced that first hand. He’s probably someone who’d rather make friends before making love.”

“You’re good with your words, Reyes,” Bellamy smirks.

“Yeah, my mouth can really do wonders,” she winks, then grins when his reaction is a bad-humoured grunt.

Clarke ignores their gross interaction. “So you’re saying he’s like… a demisexual?”

“You’re the one who knows the labels, Griffin,” Raven chuckles. “But if that means that he’d rather build a real emotional connection before you screw him, then that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Clarke rolls her eyes with amusement. “Yes, that’s what I mean. If he's a demisexual, then he won't experience sexual attraction unless he forms a strong emotional connection with me.”

“But then if you’re focused on Lexa… How do you get to actually connect with Nate?” Monty questions, and everyone nods and hums in agreement.

“With time, you start reducing your time with Lexa, and increasing it with Miller,” Bellamy suggests. “Lexa is a vehicle, your clutch, to get to him. Once the plan starts working out, she doesn’t matter anymore.”

Deep down, it actually stings to hear those words, but work-focused Clarke cannot afford to dwell on the why of it all, so she simply pushes those thoughts out of her mind.

She feels a hand come to rest on her shoulder, and lifts her gaze to meet the kind brown of Raven’s eyes. “Think about the 200 hundred grand,” the brunette reassures her quietly with a comforting smile, and it’s like she can read Clarke’s thoughts. But she can’t, because she knows virtually nothing about Lexa. “I know it’s hard to play fake friend, but she won’t mind.”

Clarke smiles sweetly at Raven, both happy with the support and relieved that the other woman had no clue as to what was truly prompting Clarke’s hesitation regarding the new plan.

“We can do that,” Clarke concedes. “But it will take a while.”

“We have three months and a half,” Octavia reminds. “We can pull it off in that time, plus it’s better if the scandal breaks out closer to the wedding.”

“True,” Jasper beams. “All the magazines will be paying sweet money to get the exclusive pics. We could get like fifty grand from that alone.”

“Fifty grand?”

“Ten a picture, five are enough to grant an explosive exclusive… Lexa and Miller are magazine sweethearts. If you got a sex recording, the earnings would shoot up to at least ten thousand more.”

“I hate recording the sex audio,” Clarke says with a grimace. “More private than a sex tape though, and more profitable. It’s hard to sell actual explicit video.”

“Fuck, that’d be sixty thousand just from the press,” Octavia concludes with wide eyes. “Ten each,” she gestures to all of them. “That’s a shitload of money.”

“That it is,” Raven agrees with a laugh. “Hey Griffin, you gotta work your ass off for this one.”

Clarke smirks, aware of the responsibility, and already dreaming of buying that car she has been drooling over for months. Suddenly there are no Nate’s, no Nia’s, no Lexa’s. No Azgeda or Polis or Command. There are simply numbers and plans and possibilities. The only people that matter to Clarke are _her_ people. The five around her, the young baker just outside the control room, and her mother. No more, no less. Those are the ones she would go to the end of the world to protect. Anyone else is merely a figure in Clarke’s calculations to make life for those she loves better.

It’s not that Clarke only cares about those seven people. She is a naturally caring person; her first instinct will always be to take care of people, even before herself. However, this line of work allows no missteps. She will always try and take care of everyone, but there are only a few that she would do anything for. She could kill hundreds for those seven.

Yet a small voice in the back of her mind tells her that if she is not careful, one more person could be added to the list. Luckily Clarke is not one to listen to those annoying voices, otherwise she would have gone mad already.

This will work. Happiness is awaiting her. Clarke will be damned if this does not go according to plan.

“I’m ready for this, guys,” she finally says. “We can do this.”

“Good,” Octavia nods with a tenacious look on her face. “Just try not to warm up to either of them too much.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “You always say that to me,” she complains. “Don’t worry, O. I haven’t fallen for any of my hundreds of targets so far. Not going to break the rule now.”

“I’m just saying—“

“And I’m not an idiot. So _trust_ me.”

The two stare hard at each other for some moments, then Octavia finally relents. A smirk makes its way to her lips. “Do your worst, Griffin.”

 

* * *

  

As soon as Lexa leaves her office building at lunchtime, she is practically cornered by Clarke Griffin. She looks up from her phone to meet blue eyes and golden hair, and Clarke can swear that the moment they lock gazes, the day gets just a little bit brighter.

Clarke shoots her a wide, show-stopping grin, and gives the brunette no time to even question her presence. “I came to apologise.” An eyebrow rises at her words and green eyes peer into hers curiously, suspiciously even. “I wasn’t on my best behaviour the other night, stress does that to me. But I really do want to be friends,” she adds with just the perfect doses of bashful, sweet and hopeful.

Lexa regards her carefully, her stoic mask perfectly in place, giving absolutely nothing away. Finally, she tucks her phone away in her back pocket and extends a hand to Clarke. “I guess I can do that.”

The blonde sees the ghost of a smirk on full lips and answers with one of her own as she shakes Lexa’s hand. “Good to know I was so easily forgiven.”

That earns her a perfect eye roll, but no verbal response. Instead, Lexa withdraws her hand and starts walking past her, as if their exchange never even happened.

Clarke is taken aback by the attitude but starts walking after her. “Have lunch with me,” she suggests.

Lexa stops in her tracks and turns to the blonde. “I have a schedule, Clarke.”

“What’s wrong with shaking it up a little every once in a while?”

“You are a bad influence.”

“Definitely,” Clarke smirks.

Lexa seems to take a while to consider her options, but Clarke knows she has won when the brunette sighs in defeat.

“I cannot be long,” Lexa warns. “You pay.”

“Really?” Clarke exclaims, earning a glare. “I’m the human disaster, you’re the big shot CEO — yet _I_ pay for lunch?”

Lexa shrugs. “You invited me.”

For once, Clarke really has no answer to that. Instead, she changes the subject. “We should do more of these.”

“You don’t even know if you will enjoy yourself,” Lexa notes.

“Free lunch at an expensive restaurant? I’d be crazy not to enjoy that.”

“Actually…” Lexa hesitates. “You will see for yourself. And lest us forget, _you_ are paying.”

“Not if I run away before the check comes.”

“Then you can be sure we will not be doing anymore of these.”

“Touché,” Clarke grins. “You should give me your number though. So we can schedule more. And then you can actually pay.”

To Clarke’s surprise, Lexa actually pulls out her phone and hands it to her. “Go ahead, text yourself.”

Beaming, Clarke sends herself a text. When her phone buzzes, she gives Lexa’s back and pulls out her own. She changes the contact information and shows Lexa the message:

 

**Lexi: lunch on Wednesday 12pm? I’ll pay.**

 

“Thank you for inviting me, Lexa,” Clarke jests. “And so sweet of you to pay!”

Lexa’s eyes roll so hard Clarke can almost feel the ground tipping beneath her feet. “That’s tomorrow, Clarke.”

“Can’t judge me for wanting to spend some time with you.”

Lexa starts walking again, and Clarke does her best to keep up. “Remind me again why I agreed to be your friend?”

“Because of my charming personality?”

This time, Lexa actually smiles. “I am failing to see the charming element to it. All I see is annoying and completely out of line.”

“So you like the way I challenge you?” Clarke questions with a smirk and the quirk of an eyebrow. “I make you feel alive?”

Lexa ponders for some minutes before responding. “You are definitely an intriguing, and perhaps not entirely unwelcome, presence in my life.”

For some reason, genuine happiness and pride course through Clarke’s veins at those words, and a strange kind of warmth makes her heart swell.

“So how’s Nate?”

Lexa seems unfazed by the question. “He’s good, thank you.”

“Tell him I said hi.”

They get to the restaurant and Lexa opens the door for Clarke, who walks inside with a ‘thank you’. It’s a small restaurant, elegant but cosy, and certainly not what she would expect Lexa to eat at. Still, it does not look very expensive, which Clarke is thankful for, since she is going to pay for both their meals. Lexa talks to the owner and they clearly know her, so Clarke presume she comes here often. The brunette heads to a table in the corner, slightly secluded, and pulls a chair for Clarke. The blonde takes it, and Lexa walks around the table to sit across from her.

“This is a nice little place,” Clarke appreciates, looking around. It is clearly a family-owned restaurant and it contrasts with her idea of Lexa completely — in a good way. It lends the brunette a deeper layer, one past the wealthy and cold-hearted businesswoman, which Clarke is yearning to peel to find what else lies underneath.

“I have been eating here ever since I started college,” Lexa explains. “It’s my favourite place in the city. Great prices and environment, delicious food, and kind staff.”

“I figured you would eat somewhere opulent and expensive.”

Lexa tilts her head to the side, like an intrigued puppy, and gives her a confused look. “Why would I?”

“Your fiancé does.”

Lexa frowns. “You had lunch with Nate?”

“No, I ran into him once at a restaurant. Worst food ever,” Clarke laughs.

“I prefer comfortable to high-class,” Lexa replies honestly. “I have never felt the need to parade my earnings.”

Clarke smiles sweetly. “There is more to you than meets the eye.”

“Should I take that as a good or a bad thing?”

“Good,” Clarke reassures softly. “Definitely good.”

Lexa’s eyes dip to the menu and she hides her reaction behind it. Clarke decides it’s time to return her eyes to the prize.

“So how did you and Nate meet?”

Lexa lowers the menu and locks her gaze with Clarke’s. “At a meeting. We got along right away. From then on, things followed their natural course.”

“Ah, boy meets girl, the most unique of love stories,” Clarke scorns.

Lexa cocks an eyebrow. “You have any other suggestions?”

“I like girl meets girl too,” Clarke smiles, and this time she is not teasing.

“How about boy meets boy?”

“Just as valid. I just wish people would understand that not all stories are about a boy and a girl.”

“I do.”

Clarke’s gaze snaps back to Lexa and she can see just how sincere her green eyes are. She could answer with something witty now, or state the fact that Lexa’s story is boy meet girl. Instead, Clarke chooses to lower her gaze to the menu and leave Lexa’s reply hanging in the air between them.

A comfortable silence follows, until it is broken by Lexa’s curiosity. “You have not told me what you do.”

“Clarke takes some seconds to choose what she wants, then she closes the menu and puts it down. “I’m in the divorce business.”

Lexa lifts a humorous eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“Not really,” Clarke lies with a shrug. “But you can come to me if you ever decide you’re done being with a man.”

“Funny,” Lexa deadpans.

“Always.”

The brunette sets her menu on the table as well and leans back on her chair to really stare at Clarke, careful and analytical, unreadable mask diligently veiling her every emotion. “What is your story, Clarke Griffin?”

The blonde is surprised. This is a change of routine, never has she experienced something like this in her previous works. Her shock must show, because Lexa frowns. “Did I overstep?” the brunette asks carefully, which prompts a smile from the blonde.

“No,” Clarke assures, placing her hand atop Lexa’s and squeezing lightly, then withdraws. “It’s just… I’m not used to that sort of question.”

Lexa’s frown deepens. “You’re not used to people wanting to know more about you?”

 _I’m not used to people caring._ “I think people consider me an open book, so they don’t really feel the need to dig any further,” she shrugs with a nonchalant smile.

“You are anything but an open book, Clarke,” the brunette states earnestly.

“I’m much simpler and shallower than you make me out to be.”

“If that were true, we would not be sitting here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks with a frown. Has Lexa figured it out? Is Lexa aware of what she is truly doing?

A tall, bearded waiter brings them a bottle and pours wine into their glasses. Both women make their orders and the waiter leaves them to their conversation.

“You would hardly be able to grab my attention if you were either simple or shallow,” Lexa says truthfully. Then a smirk, though one that is filled with fondness. “There is much more to you than meets the eye, Clarke, and I cannot wait to find out.”

“I expect you mean that in as positive a light as I did,” Clarke replies, and she can’t help but play Lexa’s game.

“As much as I would love to say yes, the connotation of my words is yet to be figured out fully.”

“I hope I can turn that maybe into a yes,” the blonde quips.

Lexa picks up her glass. “I am sure you will,” she returns with the ghost of a smile, and brings the glass to her lips.

Clarke watches her, entranced as the red wine tinges those full lips slightly. She licks her lips whilst staring attentively at Lexa’s. Clarke is pulled out of her daze when the brunette puts her glass down.

Clarke decides to finally award Lexa an answer. “I was born in DC,” she speaks, and Lexa’s eyes meet hers. “Came to New York for college, my mom accompanied me. Stayed here ever since. My dad died when I was young. I loved ice skating with him. I used to have a black fish named Rainbow, and had a tortoise named Snail. My mom is a doctor and I followed her steps till the end of med school, but have never practised. I’m also an artist, yet too afraid of failure to show anyone my works. Working in the divorce business is way more fun than it should be.”

Lexa stares at her in awe, then nods. “If you ever leave the divorce business, is there anything you would also like to do?”

“I’d like to be a doctor. I left it because another opportunity came up, not because I hated it,” Clarke explains. She can’t even remember the last time she was this honest. “I loved it, actually. I would also like to grow some ovaries and exhibit my art, but I’m scared to face the fact that it probably sucks.”

Lexa chuckles. “I’m sure it is wonderful, Clarke. I would love to see it one day.”

That draws a smile out of the blonde. “Maybe I’ll show you.” The silence that follows is charged and Clarke feels compelled to do something stupid, so she breaks it before it can extend too much. “What about you?”

Lexa seems startled by the question. “What about me?”

“Only things I know is all the crap from the magazines,” Clarke says. “And I’m positive fifty per cent of it is all lies.”

“That percentage is indeed close to reality,” Lexa admits.

“So tell me. How did Lexa Woods rise to power? Or better yet, who is the normal girl behind the extraordinary woman?”

“You hold me in too high regard, Clarke.”

“Maybe you underestimate yourself,” Clarke shrugs. “After all, you did build an empire from scratch.”

“I mean by considering me a normal girl,” Lexa corrects with a hint of sadness, and yet another layer is added to Clarke’s image of the woman sitting across from her. “I don’t know if I am even allowed to be that anymore.”

“Hey,” Clarke husks, taking Lexa’s hand in her own. “The girl I see in front of me is pretty normal if you ask me. Grounded, cultured, smart, funny, courteous, kind… You’re pretty amazing overall. But still as normal as any other person.”

Lexa’s lips upturn into a smile so small and so sweet that it makes Clarke just that much warmer. “A poet once said that up close, no one is normal.”

Clarke barks a laugh and Lexa’s smile widens. “I agree with that.”

The waiter arrives with their food and their hands untangle, neither of them even daring react to the fact that their hands were touching just moments ago like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So?” Clarke presses. “Just how not normal is Lexa Woods?”

Lexa smirks. “Don’t you have a boyfriend or girlfriend you can pester instead of me?”

“I’m single and ready to mingle,” Clarke announces proudly. “And I’m not picky when it comes to... you know.”

Lexa’s eyes widen minutely, only for the mask to slip back on. “Interesting.”

As their meal goes on, they fall into easy and casual conversation. The minutes pass freely, the food soon disappears from their plates, but the two women keep talking like time is no concept at all.

“…and that’s why you should never, _ever_ , pick a kid from school without warning whom it may concern,” Clarke finished with a laugh. “It was a fine four hours in jail though.”

Lexa chuckles and absentmindedly looks at her watch. Her eyes widen in shock. “Shit,” she hisses, and stands up brusquely.

Clarke looks at her in surprise. “Did I say anything wrong?”

“What? No! I just— It’s three pm Clarke, I had a meeting at two.”

“Oh shit,” the blonde exclaims and stands up as well. “Go ahead, I’ll pay for this.”

Lexa nods. “Thank you Clarke.”

“No problem, just hurry up. I’m sorry for holding you up.”

“It’s not your fault,” Lexa smiles and turns around, heading for the exit.

“Don’t forget lunch tomorrow at noon!” Clarke calls after her.

Lexa turns around and smiles softly. “I would not miss it for the world.”

Clarke smiles like a fool and dips her head bashfully. When she looks back up, Lexa is out of the restaurant and out of her sight.

 

* * *

 

**Clurph: tell Nate I said hi with a ;)**

**Lexi: Not even in your wildest dreams.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you think they're being careless? carefree? or is it kind of inevitable for all their interactions to turn out like this?
> 
> well obviously Miller isn't (just?) a Demisexual, but they don't know that, do they?
> 
> hope you liked this one! it's a teeny bit longer than usual :) all mistakes are mine.
> 
> once again, thank you for all your comments and kudos, they really make my day!


	5. "I'm not an idiot"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should warn you things will move fast. like I said in the first chapter, I'm writing this to have some lighthearted fun, so I don't feel like dragging it out. I'm not saying it will end in the next chapter lol but it won't go up to the same number of chapters as for example wanna bet. it will always be fluid though, don't worry :)
> 
> also, these gays are so gay that they don't even notice when they might be doing something that might be read as not gay. you'll understand when you read it.
> 
> all mistakes are mine, I was writing really fast towards the end so please forgive any irking mistakes and please tell me if you find them!
> 
> this is for the studious anon. hope you like it! and good luck on your test!

Lexa likes punk-rock and classical music. In her opinion, nothing beats Beethoven's Eighth Symphony.

Lexa's favourite dish is Swiss Chard and Lemon Ricotta Pasta, and the dessert is Tiramisu. "They are both elegant and delicious and look so complex, but what is truly fascinating about them is the sheer simplicity."

Lexa's favourite movies are The Fly and Platoon. Her favourite book is Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre-Dame.

Lexa's favourite colour is black. It shows.

Lexa had never been late to a meeting before her first lunch with Clarke. She has been late to three and missed one since then. She has now given up on scheduling meetings for any earlier than four pm.

Lexa likes candles and flowers.

Lexa is a practised fencer and skilled debater. She has won awards for both. 

Lexa has green eyes that sometimes look grey and other times look blue. Lexa has a dimple under her lower lip. Lexa has long and delicate fingers. Lexa's smile is small but lights up the whole room. Lexa moves her jaw left and right when she's bothered or trying to suppress her feelings. Lexa is never the first to initiate physical contact. Lexa wears her emotions not on her sleeve, but in her eyes. Lexa raises her eyebrows, rolls her eyes, and nods more than she actually talks.

 

Lexa. Lexa. Lexa. Lexa.

 

* * *

 

Clarke thinks she has never worn a dress shorter than the one she is wearing today. Or _as_ short, for that matter. In fact, she is not at all sure that what she is wearing can even be called a dress in the first place. She would more easily describe it as, say, a rag. The only thing she knows for sure is that she would much rather not be wearing it right now.

Dress or no dress, rag or no rag; Clarke has a mission. And as she looks up at the Skysafe Inc tower and then down at herself, Clarke knows she can absolutely not fail.

Minutes later, Clarke is in the top floor, waiting for her turn to address the secretary and checking that she has what she needs in her purse. Once she is reassured that she brought what she needed and the man that was talking to the secretary leaves ("sorry sir but I can't let you go in without a booking," the secretary said), Clarke takes his previous spot, leaning over the counter and beaming down at the young man.

"Hey darling," she greets in a sultry voice and the boy's flustered reaction tells her all she needs to know. Clarke leans over a bit, showing her ample cleavage, and puts on a seductively innocent expression. She traces lazy, pouty circles on the wooden top. "So uh... I really, _really_ need to talk to your boss," she reads the nameplate on the guy's chest, "Joey."

Joey swallows and opens his mouth several times, only to close it again each time, no sound coming out. Clarke stifles a smirk and leans over a bit more. The young man's gaze falls unabashedly to her cleavage, eyes practically bulging out of his skull.

"So...?" Clarke presses gently.

His gaze snaps back up to her eyes. "Oh! Uh— I— I'm sorry I—" He presses a button on his intercom and stutters into it, "Sir, a-a lady is uh— a lady is going in sir, bye."

Clarke tosses him an artificial smile as she turns around, and rolls her eyes. "Men."

 

"Clarke, hi."

The smile she is welcomed by is warm and kind. Miller stands up to give her a hug and Clarke can feel the utter friendliness radiating from him. If only it were something else. It would make her job much easier.

"Hey Nate, how are you doing?"

Three weeks have passed since Clarke's first lunch with Lexa and her interactions with Miller have increased, if only because he sometimes accompanies them to Lexa's favourite restaurant. More personal conversation is a bit strained in those situations, but the three of them have fun. Well. Clarke and Nate do, because Lexa always chooses those occasions to be more silent than when they are alone. The blonde likes seeing the brunette open up and talk and smile, and when her fiancé comes with them, that happens very rarely. Clarke can't say she wishes Miller would never come, because he is her target and she has to remain focused on bonding with him deeply, much more so than with Lexa — but she does wish he would never come. 

"Well you saw me yesterday," he replies cheekily. "And last time I checked, I didn't die since then."

Clarke swats his shoulder playfully. "Don't be a jerk. I would kill you if you died."

"That's kind of impossible, Clarke."

"Gosh, you're sounding like Lexa now." The words left her mouth before she could even think them. She should not be saying or thinking these things.  _Mind off Lexa_. Today is Nate day. "I brought you something."

His eyes light up and a new smile forms on his lips. "I'm never one to refuse presents."

Clarke digs through her purse and finds the small package she had brought. She hands him the gift, which he takes impatiently and opens with hunger. An expression of delight takes over his face when he sees what it is.

"Oh my god Clarke." His happiness is barely contained. "A Calibre de Cartier. And the one I've been craving for months!"

Clarke fakes relief. "Good to know, I was worried you'd have it already." It's a lie. Monty hacked into Nate's company computer and inspected his search history, finding the one item he had been looking at for a long time. Said item cost them well over 10 thousand dollars. It better be the rightest one of all, plus sing the time while doing cartwheels.

Nate pulls her into a warm hug. Clarke bucks her hips almost unnoticeably, only enough to lightly graze that specific spot in his pants, and brushes her nose against his neck. Miller does not seem to notice though, as nothing in him shows that he has been affected by her teasing.

"Thank you," he says with a wide smile as he pulls away.

"Anything for a friend like you," Clarke replies with a low, sultry voice. "Next time I'll give you some furry cuffs or a good ol' bondage kit," she adds with a wink, and finally, _finally_ she gets a reaction.

Nate's cheeks gain a slight blushing shade and his bashful gaze lowers. Clarke smirks at the effect her words had and hops onto his desk, her bare legs running for miles and her chest pushed forward. "Let's do something."

Miller places a hand on her knee. "Off my desk," he chuckles. "And you've still to explain how you managed to come in."

"I'm very persuasive."

"Bet you are."

Are they flirting? They are. Clarke is pretty sure they are. Well, this is an improvement — and Clarke's forte. She grabs the lapels of his blazer and pulls him closer, so he has to rest both hands on her knees in order to regain balance. "I do have a way with men."

"I bet you have a line of them at your door."

 _Them?_  Clarke recovers swiftly and her gaze pierces into his. "There's only one I want."

Nate's eyebrows shoot up and curiosity seems to dominate his brown eyes. "And who is that? Assuming they're a man."

"I'm not picky."  _What?_ This is not what she's supposed to be saying. "But she's— he is a man."

Clarke curses herself mentally for the misstep. What the hell is wrong with her?

"You'll have to tell me who he is," Nate teases, but it sounds more like gossip than anything else.

"He's very close to you."

His eyes widen. "How close? Tell me."

Clarke's lips widen into her most seductive smile as her hands come up to cup Miller's jaw. She places a long kiss on his cheek. "Now that would spoil the surprise, wouldn't it?"

Before he has any time to answer, Clarke slides off the desk and takes his hand pulling him towards his office door.

"Clarke, what are you doing?" he asks, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Taking you out for lunch. That hot body doesn't run on air alone."

He laughs and shakes his head, but like always, Clarke does not feel a spark. There is no chemistry — and Clarke would have chemistry with a rock. Her mind travels to green eyes and plump lips, but she is quick to shut it out. Miller. Miller is the target. Only Miller.

 

* * *

 

"Nate told me you gave him a watch."

Well, that's an opener. Clarke lowers the menu and her eyes instantly fly to that green gaze she can't quite get enough of. She feels concern bubble up her chest. "Lexa, it didn't—"

"It's okay," the brunette cuts her off. "You're friends with him too."

Clarke swallows. A handful of answers cross her mind, none of them fitting with her mission. She settles for an amicable response, one that won't endanger her goal. "I'm more friends with you than I am with him."

Lexa narrows her eyes over the menu. "Then why give him a ten thousand dollar present?"

"I just— I wanted to do something nice."

The brunette regards her with disbelief. "Something nice?"

"I've been taking you out to lunch practically every day and keeping you away from him, so I thought the least I could was make it up to him." Clarke shrugs and then adds with a wink, "Wouldn't want him thinking I'm trying to steal his fiancée."

Lexa's eyes widen and her gaze falls on the menu, lifting it so it hides her face. Clarke grins, more than satisfied with her answer.

"What are you doing on Saturday?"

It comes so suddenly, so unexpected, that Clarke is not even sure she heard it. "What?"

Lexa places the menu down on the table with a sigh and rolls her eyes for good measure. "I said, what are you doing on Monday?" Clarke's expression must replicate her state of mind — thoroughly dumbfounded — because Lexa sighs again and explains, "It's Nate's birthday next week. I think you would be good at... choosing the right gift."

Clarke ignores the jab of disappointment in her chest and forces a smirk. "That should be fun."

The brunette nods and returns to analysing the menu, as if she doesn't choose the same thing every time.

"What are  _you_ doing on Sunday?"

Lexa looks up again, an eyebrow raised. "Sunday?"

"Sunday," Clarke confirms. "I'm throwing a yacht party with a friend."

"A yacht party?"

"Yeah, good music, a pool, lots of naked girls," Clarke laughs. "You'd be in your environment."

Lexa's eye roll is so regal and bothered that the blonde knows it's just to hide her secret amusement. "Should I bring Nate?"

"Of course."

"And here I thought I was the well-off one," Lexa scoffs.

"Oh you are."

"How do you manage to throw a party in a yacht then?"

"Who knows, maybe I'm hiding a sugar daddy in my closet."

"We both know you're no trophy wife, Clarke."

"Really?" The blonde's eyebrows rise. "What makes you say so?"

The way Lexa swallows tells Clarke she was not expecting that question. "I— You are entirely too stubborn and hardheaded to ever comply with the belittling, dumbification and objectification of the expectedly soft and subordinate trophy wife."

The compliment behind Lexa causes a warmth to spread from Clarke's chest. She cannot find the words to reply, so she settles for a simple, "thank you."

"Should I bring something?"

"Just your insufferable self," the blonde smirks. "And diamond earrings. I've always wanted some."

Lexa chuckles and Clarke practically melts with the sound. "I think my wonderful self will have to suffice." They lock gazes, soft smiles on their lips. "And Nate," Lexa adds as an afterthought, breaking the daze they were both in.

Yes. Nate. Not like Clarke almost forgot about him.

 

* * *

 

The yacht is big and pompous, and looks like something straight out of The Wolf of Wall Street. Nia's millions are definitely being well employed. There is a big pool at the front, in which a dozen of hired 'friends' of Clarke's are having fun. Lounge chairs are spread beside the pool. The interior of the yacht, however, is what really fascinates Clarke. It is luxurious but tasteful, and provides about just the right amount of privacy for their plan to succeed.

"Today has to be perfect."

Clarke rolls her eyes, having heard the same sentence times enough today. "I know. It will."

"I'm not kidding, Clarke."

"I know, Octavia. You've made that pretty clear already."

"Yeah, like when she was shouting at everyone that we had to do everything right or she'd kick our asses," Raven chimes in with a laugh. Octavia's glare keeps her from saying anything else.

Bellamy arrives then, bathing shorts on, just like the three girls are wearing bikinis. "The lovebirds are here."

Clarke checks their surroundings: blasting music, girls in bikinis, the whole team there ready to get to work, the whole mood perfectly set. She nods to herself and heads to the entrance of the yacht, ready to welcome the engaged couple.

Her heart jumps. That is the only way Clarke can describe what she feels the moment she sees them. Her heart jumps out of her chest and for a fleeting moment, it is no longer hers, in her own chest, but rather in Lexa's. In that moment, Clarke's heart is Lexa's to hold. That is the only explanation for the way Clarke feels when she sees the brunette in a red half sarong and a black bikini, tanned legs running long and flat abdomen, chest charmingly framed by the bikini top and neck blooming, lean and regal, from impeccably poised shoulders.

But what really has Clarke gaping and awestruck is Lexa's face. It has always been her face. Green eyes smiling like her full lips, no make up on and hair free from any ties, draped over her right shoulder. Lexa has never looked so fresh and, if Clarke is being honest with herself, so strikingly beautiful.

Clarke's smile widens impossibly at the sight and her heart beats like a teenage girl's. But then she sees the couple's intertwined hands and her grin falters. Clarke can't help the sad feeling in her heart as a lump forms in her throat.

The couple get on the boat and Miller is the first to greet Clarke, pulling her into a warm hug. As they pull away, Clarke's gaze locks with Lexa's. Their smiles match, shy and sweet. Clarke is the first to react extending her hand to Lexa, who promptly takes it. Their hands remain together for perhaps a second too long, until Lexa has the decency to slip away from Clarke's grasp.

Raven and Bellamy come to stand beside Clarke, wearing polite smiles.

"Raven and Bellamy, these are Nate and Lexa, my most recent friends," Clarke introduces. "Nate and Lexa, these are Raven, my best friend, and Bellamy, my date for the afternoon."

Lexa raises an eyebrow at the word 'date'. Miller, Raven and Bellamy exchange warm hello's. Raven and Lexa seem to connect immediately, but Lexa becomes a lot colder when greeting Bellamy.

"Have we met before?" Lexa asks as she shakes his hand coolly.

"Not that I know of," Bellamy lies with a smile.

Lexa shrugs indifferently. "I guess your face is not so memorable then."

Clarke and Raven have to stifle their laughter, while Miller shakes his head. Bellamy just stands there, looking mildly offended. He weaves an arm around Clarke's waits, which makes her wholly uncomfortable. "It is for Clarke," he replies, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Clarke cringes and looks apologetically to Lexa, but the brunette shows no sign of reaction.

 

Clarke knows the plan. She does. But how can she lead Nate to the ready bedroom when Lexa is walking around the yacht looking so breathtaking? How can she focus on Nate when her eyes keep flying back to the brunette, who doesn't shy away from meeting Clarke's gaze either?

Lexa is now sitting by the pool. She has not yet even entered it, but Clarke can already picture the moment when she will emerge, hair damp and pushed back, hands sliding over it, chest covered only by the bikini top and torso stretched up, bringing out her flat and elegantly toned abdomen. Her legs stepping slowly and confidently out of the water, hips swaying sensually like a scene out of some Bond movie that Clarke will simply be unable to resist.

Deciding she needs to get out of there, Clarke heads inside the yacht and towards the bedroom they prepared for the evening.

Clarke is pacing, cursing her (lack of) luck, wondering how on earth she is supposed to go on with the plan when her eyes yearn for Lexa like this, when she hears it.

"Clarke."

She turns around, eyes widening and throat bobbing at the sight of Lexa, small and beautiful, standing in the doorway. "Hey."

Lexa steps in bashfully, holding something in her closed fist. She moves to stand in front of Clarke and gives her whatever she has in her hand. It is a small box, velvety and elegant; it's utterly Lexa.

"They don't have any diamonds," Lexa starts with a one-shoulder shrug as Clarke opens the box. The blonde's eyes widen impossibly as in the inside she finds two beautiful white gold earrings. "But I thought it would be a nice thank you for inviting me to this party and agreeing to help me with Nate's present."

Clarke's stare flies up to meet Lexa's and she feels her skin breaking into thrilling goosebumps. "They're beautiful."

"I just wanted to do something nice for you."

"You already do so much. Putting up with me can't be easy."

Lexa smirks. "It's not." Then a pause. "Helping me keep my fiancé happy can't be easy either."

A sad smile flourishes in Clarke's lips. "It's not."

Clarke moves closer to Lexa, one step and then another, and suddenly their bodies are just a few inches shy from being pressed together. "Thank you," she whispers, and leans in to press her lips against the brunette's cheek.

Clarke can hear Lexa's breathing falter for a second, and when she pulls back, the brunette's eyes take a moment to reopen.

"Clarke!"

"Fuck!" the blonde whispers, grabbing Lexa's hand and tugging her with her into the closet just in front of the bed.

The voice, which Clarke instantly recognises as Octavia's, calls out again. "Clarke!"

Inside the closet, doors closed and the only light peering in through the gaps in the wooden doors, Clarke is breathing heavily. Her lips pull into a smirk as she notices just how close she and Lexa are.

"This is getting old," she whispers jokingly.

"Why are we hiding, Clarke?"

"Shhh just shut up."

Lexa complies and the two remain silent. Octavia seems to enter the room looking for Clarke. "Clarke?" The blonde can hear her voice just feet away from them and she instinctively ducks her head. "Clarke we need to get Miller, it's time to—" Then the small brunette growls, "Oh for fuck's sake, I'm tired of this."

Octavia walks away and silence settles between Clarke and Lexa, none of them making an effort to leave the closet.

"You know, this is awfully ironic," Clarke sniggers.

Lexa's eye roll is precious. "Only to you."

Clarke chuckles lightly, but silence comes back to envelop them tensely, their mingled breaths the only sound in the closet.

"Clarke."

"Lexa?"

"We are awfully close."

Clarke's gaze falls to Lexa's lips and she realises what the brunette means. Lexa's face is mere inches away from her own, their lips almost touching. Clarke swallows and can see Lexa is having a hard time with their close proximity too. Nevertheless, neither makes a move to leave.

Clarke looks up to Lexa's eyes, green, beautiful, intense. If she had a mirror on the wall, it would certainly say that Lexa is the fairest of them all. Because she is. How can she not be, with her chestnut locks and her deep emerald eyes and lips so— Clarke's thought process comes to a halt as her gaze falls once again on Lexa's lips. Lips so full, so beautiful, so desirable, so alluring... so... kissable...

Clarke finds herself with half-lidded eyes, head leaning in, lips moving forward and yearning to brush ever so slightly against Lexa's. Lexa is in no better shape, as she too has moved closer to Clarke, as if that were even possible, and she dips her head, grazing Clarke's lips with her own for less than a second. Clarke knows all it takes is closing the millimetre distance between them, meeting Lexa's lips and drowning in her own fantasies.

That's all it takes. Just. A millimetre. Just—

 


	6. "this is getting old"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get used to such quick updates xD this was mainly because I had time for two short mornings of writing, and I'm trying to get another fic posted by the 18th because that's when the draft expires. So yeah. Enjoy the early update ;)
> 
> This one is relatively short, but changes everything.

_Miller is gay._

The thought pops into her mind, completely out of the blue and in the middle of a situation that Clarke would really, _really_ rather not be distracted from. But now she has been and now her mind is not in it, the cogs in her head wheeling at the speed of light with the new discovery.

And she has to say it.

"He's gay."

That stops Lexa, whose eyes snap up to meet Clarke's. "What?"

"Miller is gay."

Lexa purses her lips and clenches her jaw, telling Clarke she's hit jackpot. She holds up her hand in front of the blonde, showcasing the ring on her finger. “Clarke, he’s engaged. To me. A woman.”

"Well you're gayer."

Lexa straightens her pose, her expression becoming stoic. “I am not.”

Clarke can't help but roll her eyes. "Really Lexa? I thought we were past that."

The brunette refuses to even grace her with an answer, so Clarke smirks at the denial and lays a hand on the brunette’s leg. “Are you sure?” Clarke asks in a low, husky, sultry voice. “Are you absolutely sure?”

She can see Lexa swallow, lips parted and gaze flitting nervously between blue eyes and the teasing hand on her leg. Clarke’s mischievous grin widens.

Her hand travels discreetly upward and to the inside of Lexa’s thigh, then squeezes gently. That coaxes a small gasp from the brunette. Satisfied, Clarke pulls her hand away (she swears she hears something akin to the softest of whimpers when it leaves Lexa’s legs), having all the proof she needed.

“Thought so,” she declares triumphantly.

Lexa's nostrils are flaring. "I thought we were supposed to be friends."

"You're the one that almost kissed me just a minute ago," Clarke whispers back harshly.

"And you interrupted it to say that my fiancé is gay."

"Which he is."

"So what if he is?" Lexa spits back. "How is it any of your concern?"

Clarke would cross her arms if she had any space. "I was just curious."

"Is curiosity what prompted whoever that girl was to come looking for you and Nate just now?"

 _Shit._ "It's Raven's birthday and we were about to eat the cake, so we need everyone there."

"I wasn't there."

"She just didn't notice."

Clarke knows Lexa doesn't believe her, but for some reason, the brunette lets it slide.

"We are still too close."

This time, the blonde smirks. "I thought you wanted to kiss me."

"That was before you ruined the moment and I got my functioning brain back."

"Tell me it isn't true then," Clarke challenges. "Tell me you're not each other's beards."

Lexa sighs, clearly debating whether or not she should tell the truth. When she finally speaks, her tone and expression are as honest as Clarke has ever seen. "You may not know this, but homosexuality is still frowned upon in the business world."

"Well you didn't strike me as one to cower under disapproving looks."

"I'm sorry to disappoint," Lexa replies bitterly.

"I'm sorry that you don't allow yourself to be who you truly are."

Lexa heaves a dejected sigh and lowers her gaze. "If only it were that simple."

Silence falls upon them once more. Clarke feels like their most significant words are the ones that fill the silence, never leaving their lips. Maybe they are doomed to never grow past subtext. An idea pops into her mind and she can't prevent it from developing into a decision.

"I'll stop."

Lexa's gaze moves up to find Clarke's. "What do you mean?"

"I'll stop bothering you." As she is saying it, Clarke knows it's the right decision. "I'll stop bothering Nate. I'll just... stop."

Lexa narrows her eyes, shocked look on her face. "You never bother me, Clarke. We are friends."

"Are we?" Clarke's whispered laugh is bitter, disillusioned. "Because we keep going back to this moment, saying we're friends, when in reality all our interactions are based on flirting and almost kisses. We can't keep going like this."

Whatever she does, if she keeps interacting with Lexa— Clarke knows she will end up breaking the brunette's heart.

"But Clarke—"

"If we keep doing this, we will regret it."

"You would regret kissing me?"

"I would regret—"  _Ruining my job. Still having to do it. Breaking your heart. Breaking my own._ "I would regret not doing the right thing."

Lexa simply averts her gaze from Clarke's, jaw locked, refusing to say anything else. Clarke understands she will get no further response. With a heavy sigh, she leaves the closet, leaving Lexa alone in it.

 

The party is shut down abruptly and everyone is confused. Clarke's excuse is that she got sick, so she doesn't even have to say goodbye to Miller and, more importantly, Lexa. Once everyone has filed out of the ship, Bellamy comes rushing into the bedroom.

His expression is that of deep concern, eyes widening at the sight of Clarke lying in bed, gaze fixed on the ceiling, looking utterly miserable. "Are you okay?"

Clarke shakes her head. "I'm done."

Bellamy frowns, the meaning of the blonde's words lost on him. "Done doing what?"

The blonde waves her arms aimlessly. "This. Targeting Nate." She turns to her friend. "What are we doing, Bellamy? I thought we were supposed to do something good. We were supposed to expose the cheaters, the bad guys. Nate and Lexa aren't bad. They're great people, who happen to be gay, and need each other in order to be taken seriously by all the bigots in command of the business world. That was not our purpose. When did we change?"

The man sighs, deep frown in place. "We didn't change. We simply started accepting money for what we already did."

"I didn't have to sleep with Finn. I didn't have to sleep with anyone up until two years ago. Why do I do it now?"

"Why are you doubting this now?" he grunts. "Why not when we went professional?"

"I don't know," Clarke shrugs helplessly. "I honestly don't know." Bellamy walks up to the bed, sitting on the edge and taking Clarke's hand in his own. "I was so caught up in the pride of exposing the bad people, and then the money, that at some point— I lost sight of what we wanted to do in the first place."

"We're so close, Clarke. 200 thousand dollars. Think about it."

"But it's never going to work." She barks out a humorless laugh. "He's gay."

Bellamy is taken aback by the new piece of information. "You don't know that," he says carefully.

"Yes I do. Lexa confirmed it."

"Hmm." Bellamy ponders their possibilities for a while before speaking again, "So we go after Lexa."

"What the—" Clarke sits up in a jolt, indignation setting her body aflame. "No. We don't out people, remember?

"Clarke. We can up the price if we ask," he insists. "We could ask for half a million. You don't even have to have sex with her."

"No," Clarke shakes her head frantically. "No. No outing people. That's out of the question."

He holds up his hands, giving up. "Fine," he begrudgingly relents. "No outing people. So what do we do then?"

"We drop the job."

"What? That's insane, Clarke."

"Then give me a better idea," she replies in exasperation, eyes blazing, pleading, because she truly wants a better idea than the only one she has come up with.

Bellamy clenches his jaw, lips pursed, his eyes burning into the comforter of the bed. All of a sudden, he stands up tersely and starts to leave the room. Before he exits, though, he turns back to Clarke, finger pointing at her accusatorially.

"Hundreds of thousand. Lost. This is your idea."

Then he turns around and leaves the room.

  

"When did we decide to compromise our values?"

Clarke looks up from her sitting place, legs draped over the edge of the yacht, to see Raven sit down next to her. "Hey Rae," she sighs.

"FYI, Beachball and Pocahontas are plotting."

Clarke shrugs, it's not in their power anymore. "Let them plot. I'm not outing Lexa."

"Is it because of your morals?" Raven asks, tone both teasing and serious. "Or because it's Lexa?"

The smile that curls into Clarke's lips is sad. "What if I said it's both?"

Raven nods pensively, then shrugs. "As good an answer as any."

They let silence stretch out, comfortable and sacred.

"I'm sorry."

Raven looks at her, eyebrow raised. "Sorry for what?"

"Finn. I never really got around to apologizing to you."

The brunette shakes her head. "It's not your fault."

"Not my fault that he was a cheater, but I'd rather not have had a hand in breaking your heart."

"Again. Not your fault."

Clarke lets out a breathy chuckle. Raven might be crazy, but she's the most level-headed of them all.

"Two years ago," she finally says.

"What?"

"Two years ago, when we started taking money for what we do," Clarke explains. "That's when we decided that our values weren't as important as a bag full of cash."

Raven nods in agreement. "I always thought we were good people."

"I think we are. Or we were. Maybe we stopped being good people at some point in time." Clarke plays with the velvet box in her hands, fingers tracing every line. "I still remember when I gave up on being a doctor for this. I wasn't forced, I chose this because I liked it, and I kept going because the feeling never changed. To be honest, I don't regret a single moment."

"Same here. It was fun."

"And..." She comes to a stunning realization. "And I don't know if that makes me an awful person, but I enjoy it. Not the having sex part, though I was never too opposed to it, but... I love the planning, the strategizing, the manipulation, the playing a character that is not me. I don't regret it, Raven. I absolutely don't."

Raven's smile is sympathetic as she drapes an arm around Clarke's shoulders, rubbing her hand up and down the blonde's upper arm in comforting manner. "I know, Princess. I know."

Clarke turns back to Raven, blue eyes supplicating. "But we can't do it. I can't— I  _won't_ out Lexa. Or Miller, for that matter."

"I know."

"I already feel bad as it is," she sighs.

"What do you mean?" Raven asks with a frown.

Clarke takes a beat before answering. "Well first of all, we kept insisting when Nate showed no sign of interest. Where do we draw the line? When is it too much? When is it not enough? And then... This character I've been playing around Lexa... It's not a character, Rae. It's me. She likes me for _me_. And what do I do? I try to break their engagement off because— not even a rival company, but one that is meant to be an ally, wants to ruin them. They're good people, Rae." She sighs but Raven does not speak, clearly waiting for her to continue. "I never feel bad, Raven. You know that. God knows that the assholes we expose deserve it. They really fucking deserve it. But Lexa and Nate don't. For the first time since we started doing this, I feel _bad_.

"I thought I'd thrown my moral compass out the window a long time ago," she concludes with a crestfallen sigh. "I thought I no longer cared."

"You never did that, Clarke. You just— like you said, you always believed they deserved it. I did too," Raven asserts. "Still do. But like you, not Miller and Lexa."

The conversation is cut short by Clarke's phone buzzing. The two women check the text message:

 

 **Boris:** Meeting in HQ tomorrow. Change of plans.

 

* * *

 

To say that Clarke has a bad feeling about this meeting is a gross understatement. She has no idea how it can go wrong, though. They have all made it pretty clear in the past that they will never out people. So how could they possibly go on — something Clarke is not particularly excited about in the first place?

As soon as she enters the backroom of the little cafe, Clarke knows her suspicions were right. Something about Bellamy's stance, Octavia's expression— something gives them away. And Clarke is now thoroughly scared of whatever the Blake siblings have decided.

Bellamy does not even give her a minute to settle before he starts talking: "As we all know," he begins, looking around the room at the faces of the team, "both Miller and Lexa are gay. We don't out people here. We've always drawn a line at that." Clarke sighs, relief flooding her. "But," he adds, and now she is worried again, "we don't need to out people to put them in compromising situations."

Clarke frowns. What twisted logic has he come up with?

Octavia steps forward. "First of all, we stay away from Lexa. No interaction with her whatsoever." That Clarke can agree with. "Second of all, we can take advantage of Miller's obvious obliviousness to all things flirting from a woman and—"

"No," Clarke blurts before she even realized the words were about to leave her mouth.

The brunette purses her lips and frowns at the blonde. "Jasper already agreed to this. Raven is not part of the team, so she can't vote, hence not having been called up. Even if Monty were against it, you'd still lose. You don't have an option, Clarke."

"Uh, yes I do. It's my body, it's my mind, it's _me_ ," Clarke states. "You need  _me_ to do this, so if I say I won't do it, then you have to accept that."

"If you don't do it, then I will. I'm sure Linc won't mind me holding hands or going out to lunch with a gay dude," Octavia counters with a shrug.

"It would be a lie! It's not just a matter of seducing people and making them cheat anymore, it's shaming someone for something they would never do."

"The media don't know that," Bellamy cuts in, his tone always too serious. "He won't even know what hit him."

"We can't do that!" she snaps. "Are you all completely out of your minds? We can't do it." Clarke crosses her arms to punctuate her point. "We won't do it."

"Enough, Clarke!" Bellamy retorts harshly, leaving the blonde completely stunned. "We're a team. You're not in charge here, and that's a good thing because things go wrong when you're in charge."

"That's not—"

"You developed feelings for Lexa!" Octavia snarls, and the room goes silent. They have finally addressed the elephant in the room. "What the fuck, Clarke. Are you fucking amateur?"

"It wasn't my feelings that stopped us from doing this job," Clarke insists. "It's the fact that they're gay and hell, don't we have an ounce of dignity left in our bodies?"

"To me, dignity is doing what's best for the ones I love," Bellamy points out, is index finger pressing against the table, voice solemn. "I have  _always_ done what's best for us. I need you to trust that I'm doing that now."

Clarke shakes her head, entirely too stunned at the lengths her friends are willing to go. "What you're suggesting isn't right for anyone. Maybe it's time you realize that we're supposed to expose cheaters, not fake their cheating."

"Maybe it's time you stop being selfish," he replies unwaveringly. He looks around the room, scanning everyone's faces. "Those in favor, say aye."

Octavia says it without batting an eye. Jasper looks between the siblings and Clarke, unsure, but ends up saying 'aye' too. Three against one, another neutral for now. Clarke looks at Monty, pleading with him to not agree with the others. However, he bows his head bashfully and mutters a quiet 'aye'.

"It's settled then," Bellamy says proudly, then turns to Clarke. "Either you do it, or O will."

The blonde narrows her eyes at the younger Blake, still too baffled to believe that she actually helped concoct this horrible plan. "Really Octavia? You're better than this."

Yet the girl simply sets her jaw and releases a harsh breath from her nose. "I don't see how it's so repulsive to you, Clarke. We're not outing them, this is by far our best shot."

Thoroughly disappointed in her friends, Clarke weighs her options. She can simply refuse to do it, but then Octavia will, and the end result will be exactly the same. Or she can agree to do it, but— that's it. Who says that her manipulation skills only work on strangers?

"I'll do it," she says finally, and both Bell and Octavia grin with satisfaction.

Clarke sort of understands their points of view. She's the only one that actively interacts with the targets, and gets personally involved in every case. If to Clarke the targets are numbers, she imagines that to her team, they are no more than ones and zeros. How can there be any empathy for people they eventually forgot are human? But Clarke knows they are human. Clarke knows certain lines should not be crossed, even if she has crossed some of them herself lately. Yet this, exposing someone for a mistake they didn't make, is entirely too much, even for Clarke.

As soon as she is out of the café, Clarke calls Raven.

" _Hey Princess, how'd it go?_ "

"On a scale from bad to excruciatingly horrible?" Clarke jokes sourly.

" _That sounds awful._ "

"It was worse." An impressed whistle comes from the other side of the line. "And now I need your help."

_"What for?"_

"Fooling our whole team?" Clarke half asks, half states with a grimace.

" _Sounds fun_ ," Raven quips, but then her tone turns serious. " _Are you sure about this?_ "

"Yes, Raven," Clarke nods resolutely even though her friend can't see her. "What they decided to do... It's a whole new level of wrong."

" _I see._ " A long silence follows and for a moment, Clarke thinks Raven has hung up, until the brunette's voice makes its way down the line again, " _So what do I need to do?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the whole thing just turned upside down! And Miller just (unknowingly) got himself a new beard (well, sort of, because Clarke won't let it happen)! And I may or may not be at work right now! (in my defense, I'm waiting for a video to export)
> 
> Also, don't worry if you didn't totally get their plan. It will be more thoroughly explained in the next chapter. Just in case there is any doubt, Clarke is now trying to stop them. She might have agreed to the plan, but it was only to be able to work against the team from within. She doesn't agree with their decision.
> 
> Oh and I "forgot" to say at the beginning of the story, this is the Boris version of Bellamy. So yeah. Watch The Thrones and Hakeldama, y'all. He means well, but is also an ass.


	7. "so what do I need to do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a while, right? I'm sorry. I won't keep you waiting this long again. It's just it was such a tough chapter to write already (and especially figure out) and then I lost half of it, and writing it all over again... Kinda lost the motivation for a while there :/ and then I lost like a quarter again because I refreshed the page by accident! Arghhhhh so frustrating, I wanted to punch something. Kinda still do. But it's here now! It's not proofread because I really can't look at it anymore. I'll hit something if I have to read a word of it.
> 
> This is my longest chapter yet. Don't get used to it :p
> 
> Remember when I said this wouldn't have the same chapter count as WB? Haha that was cute. Innocent little me. There's no way I can wrap this up by 15, it will probably get to 20.
> 
> Oh and we have a teeny tiny bit of Raven's POV in this chapter!
> 
> This was my least favourite chapter to write tbh, so I hope it's better than I think it is.

"They're planning to do what?!"

Clarke would laugh at Raven's reaction if she weren't so angry. But she is, so she keeps her expression of deep concern. They are at a bar, sitting outside, getting ready to start making plans to fool the team.

"We basically go out and walk around the street and, I don't know, I take his hand playfully or something, and they take a picture. Once taken completely out of context, it looks like we're taking some super romantic walk and holding hands like we're completely in love," Clarke explains. "Can you see how fucked up that is?"

"Yep," Raven agrees, popping the 'p'. "What the fuck is wrong with them? I mean, I can't say I'm too surprised about Bellamy, but Octavia too?" And  _Monty_?"

Clarke's face falls. How can her friends be so blind? She shrugs, feeling powerless. "I guess... I guess they don't even see the targets as people."

"That's stupid," Raven states simply, and Clarke agrees.

The team's plan is simple. Clarke goes out with Miller, as _friends_ , and takes advantage of his utter obliviousness to place them both in situations that scream romance, for the rest of the team to register those moments. They will get three months' worth of material and submit it to Azgeda a couple of weeks before the wedding.

Clarke and Raven's plan, however, as they realise during the following few days, is much more complicated. They decide to plan two weeks ahead, knowing that winging it would be disastrous, but planning too ahead will not be wise either. As far as the team knows, Raven has been extremely busy at work for the past four days, which has rendered her unable to help them with their missions, but fully supports their new plan.

"I'm going to hang with Miller twice this week and three times the next," Clarke starts laying out her plan. "That leaves us with five days to frustrate their plans."

"And how do we do that without raising suspicion?" Raven asks sceptically.

"We  _will_ raise suspicion eventually," Clarke admits, aware that they will not be able to get away for long. "The goal is to keep this going for as long as possible."

"Which will be the aforementioned two weeks at most. They're not idiots, Clarke."

"I know."

"But we still have to try?" Raven asks sympathetically.

"Yeah," the blonde sighs. "I just— I can't let them do this."

"So," Raven restarts, "how do we do this?"

 

* * *

**Day 1**  

"See Clarke?" Octavia grumbles. " _Raven_ understands that this plan is great, I don't know why you're still so fucking stubborn about it."

The short woman is leaning back against the table in their meeting room. Behind her, Raven sneakily reaches for Jasper's camera. This is one of the rare times that the mechanic is "available" and the duo are making the most of it.

"I still think what we're doing is wrong," Clarke counters, crossing her arms. "You know it too, but you're blocking it out of your mind for some reason."

Octavia snorts. "Oh fuck off, Clarke."

The brunette starts to turn around, but seeing that Raven is still fumbling with the camera, Clarke strides closer to Octavia and takes her face in her hands. "O." Octavia's eyes widen, and Clarke finds a paradoxical mix of fondness and hostility in them. "I love you. You're one of my best friends, and I  _know_ you're better than this. I don't know what's blinding you, but please open your eyes. Please."

A fire burns behind Octavia's eyes and her brow furrows. "They're rich, they can just buy themselves new beards whenever they want," she barks. "Do you think Lexa wouldn't do this to you if she were in the same situation? Wake up, Clarke: she would. How do you think she got to where she is? People like her step on people like us. And do you  _really_ think she would want anything to do with you if you came clean to her and told her all about your job? You're basically a hooker," she snorts. "And this is not Pretty fucking Woman. Richard Gere doesn't fall for Julia Roberts in real life."

The words sting. From behind Octavia, Raven nods, signalling she is finished. Still hurt by Octavia's words, Clarke turns around and storms out of the room, angry at herself for even trying to make her friend see reason.

A minute later, Octavia's voice comes running from behind her. "Clarke, wait!" The blonde stops, heaving a frustrated sigh, and turns around to face her friend. Octavia runs and comes to a stop in front of Clarke, taking the blonde's hands in her own, eyes big and pleading. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I'm sorry. And you're not a hooker."

"I kind of am," Clarke chuckles humourlessly. "But I don't mind. I chose it."

"So... Will you forgive me?"

Clarke regards her gravely. "For this? Yes. For the whole situation? Only if you come around. I'm sorry, O, but I can't do it any other way."

The brunette nods, accepting of Clarke's stance. "I get it."

"And I want you to know that I'm only helping you guys because I don't want you doing it yourself," Clarke reiterates.

Another nod from Octavia. "I know."

Clarke sighs thoughtfully, then she shrugs. "Let's get to work then."

Just as she is heading back to the building to get her things, her phone buzzes in her pocket. Clarke sighs. She does not have to look at the screen to know who just texted her. Still, she opens the text, and her heart sinks at what she reads.

**Lexa: Please talk to me.**

It is Wednesday, and Lexa has been texting her every day since the party on Sunday. That day it was a late night text, asking if they were okay. Then on Monday as well as Tuesday, texts were sent Clarke's way, all four of which were dutifully ignored. It hurts Clarke not to reply. However, if she does, she will have to come clean. And if she comes clean, she hurts Lexa's feelings, and loses her for good.

Clarke knows perfectly well that she is already breaking Lexa's heart and losing her this way, but at least Lexa will not think that what they have — whatever it is that they have — is not real. This way she will simply think that Clarke is not ready to be in the closet with her, or is not content with being "just friends." And who knows? Maybe someday, when Lexa (hopefully) comes out, they will get a shot at a relationship. Yes, Clarke decides as she nods with resolve. This is the lesser of two evils.

And even if she were to come clean... What could she possibly say?

_I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, but I am too afraid of the moment when I will have to tell you the truth._

_I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, I can't bring myself to tell you that I have been using you._

_I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, but I'm not brave enough to see you hate me._

Clarke shakes her head. Perhaps she is— no: she  _is_ being selfish, but she cannot bear the thought of a definite goodbye. So she keeps sailing the waters of uncertainty and  and detachment, knowing that once she gets to the shore — and she hopes she never gets there at all — its finality will wash over like a tidal wave and send her so far down the sea that she will never be able to swim back to the surface, doomed to slowly expire in the overwhelming darkness of the all-consuming depth of the ocean.

Time to stop being so depressive. With a final sigh, Clarke tucks the phone back in her pocket and fetches her things, ready for the long day ahead.

 

Three hours later, they are coming back to headquarters, and Clarke can barely hide her smirk of amusement and self-satisfaction. Octavia is yelling at Jasper for being an idiot and forgetting to insert his memory card into the camera; Jasper is one step away from crying, insisting he did put it in, and he has no idea how it ended up not there; Bellamy is grunting and grumbling and growling about a long day of work completely wasted, and all the incompetent morons he's surrounded by; Monty is trying to calm everyone down. Clarke, however, is having the time of her life.

She actually did great work. She understands her team's frustration, she would be going crazy right now too if she was not on the other side of the trench. Actually, precisely because she knew it would be to waste, Clarke put in the extra effort to make everything she did look absolutely compromising. She did, if she says so herself, a wonderful job.  _What a pity it all went to waste_ , she thinks ironically to herself with a smirk.

The buzz of her phone distracts her though, and Clarke falls behind the group to check the texts she just got. Her eyes widen at the name of the sender, and she opens the messages.

**Lexa: So ignoring me is your new strategy.**

**Lexa: I thought we stopped being teenagers some years ago.**

**Lexa: On second thought, if you can behave like a child, so can I.**

**Lexa: I will keep bugging you until you answer.**

A small fond smile pulls at the corners of Clarke's lips. She sighs again; she has been doing a lot of that lately. For how long can Clarke keep pretending that she does not care?

 

* * *

**Day 2**

To say that Friday's plan is a gamble would be an understatement. Nonetheless, Clarke has rarely had so much fun in her life. Inside her ear rests an earpiece, into which Raven is giving out orders from her hiding place, away from the team.

It's ridiculous, really, what they have planned, and it relies on luck too much for safety. Yet it's the best way to avoid the team's suspicion. Every time Clarke works Nate into a compromising situation, Raven instructs some stranger to walk somewhere across the camera's line of shot, effectively photobombing them. Either that or Clarke "unknowingly" makes Nate stand behind a tree or out of clear sight, or with his back to the camera, so no good picture can be taken.

Raven has just given a random man twenty dollars to walk past the "couple," when her voice sounds in Clarke's ear.

"Be ready Griffin." They know they have a window of two to three seconds to act, and hope for the best. "He will walk past you in three, two, one... Now!"

In that moment, Clarke leans closer to Nate and kisses his cheek, fluttering her eyes closed. Metres away, a flash goes off and a picture is taken.

Minutes later, a stranger "accidentally" bumps into Clarke, ruining a hand on Miller's chest. Then it is a woman who decided to hug Clarke and Miller while they were hugging, seemingly out of nowhere. The fourth photo is ruined because some idiot decided to purposely photobomb them, sticking two fingers up in a victory sign. When Clarke leans too close to Nate, a rude man walks between their bodies, forcibly separating them.

Raven is clearly having a lot of fun, and she laughs and laughs in Clarke's ear as photo after photo is ruined by her shenanigans. Clarke simply smirks and keeps playing the game.

Miller and Clarke decide to head to his office, where they will part, two hours later. They talk animatedly, Nate always smiling so kindly, and Clarke forcing her smile to meet her eyes. Being with Miller reminds her of Lexa, and it gets harder with each passing moment to forget the light but constant ache in her heart at the thought of green eyes and plump limps, and a voice so soft and soothing that it could make talking about the reproductive cycle of the fruit fly the most interesting thing in the world.

"She misses you."

The statement shocks Clarke so much that for once in her life, she has no idea how to react. She knows what he is talking about, but it seems so bewildering impossible, that it just  _can't_ be. Can it? Nate seems unfazed by Clarke's silence, though, as he surprises her with yet another unexpected remark.

"I know that you know," he states softly. "And I know that she knows you know." Clarke stays silent. She is still determined not to believe what she thinks she is hearing, because it will open too many terrifyingly appealing possibilities. It would be too good to be true. "And I also know," he hesitates now, and Clarke can feel this is a big moment. "I also know that Lexa would really appreciate it if you talked to her again."

Clarke looks at him with wide, shining eyes. "What about—"

"Clarke," he smiles wryly. "If you know what I know you know, then you also know that it's not an issue for me if you and Lexa become... close." Then he sits on the edge of his desk, one leg up and the other down, and takes her hands fondly. "But you have to know that it's highly unlikely that... That  _we_ will stop." Clarke nods pensively, even though she has no intention of pursuing whatever she feels when she is with Lexa. "So you have to think it through carefully."

Clarke worries her bottom lip between her teeth, and her eyes avert from Miller's to anything that will not remind her of Lexa. It's fruitless. Instead, her eyes focus on the rugged floor, its pattern boring enough to divert her brain from poisonous thoughts.

"I—" her thoughts take her own way, but each beat of her heart tells her something else. She settles for following reason. "Please forget we had this conversation."

Nate frowns. "But Clarke—"

"No," she cuts him off immediately. She shakes her head, lip between teeth, an anguished smile colouring her anguished eyes. "I can't."

Clarke leaves before she can say anything stupid, leaving him behind with a frown creasing his often soft expression.

 

Jasper is, at the very least, sulking.  Out of almost fifty photographs, only eight are decent. Of those eight, only three can be considered incriminatory. Even so, they are not enough. Every other picture is either ruined by people walking past, or bumping into Clarke and Miller, or any other brilliant idea Raven had — and Raven had a lot of those.

Octavia is yelling at the skies, cursing everyone and everything for yet another fruitless day of work. Clarke is trying to contain her gloating. Bellamy, however, is composed.

"Guys, we have five photos, and many more weeks of work left," he reassures, putting a damper on Clarke's good humour. "Not all days are gonna go well, but if we keep at this steady pace, we'll have more than enough material to sell."

"We need more than pictures," Octavia intervenes. "We need something strong."

"Yes we do, but we'll have to make due with what we have," he argues as he scratches the back of his head, deep in thought. "Right now we do what we planned, we'll sort things out later."

Jasper sighs heavily, and everyone turns to look at him. When he notices they are all waiting expectantly for him to say something, he mumbles forlornly, "Looks like luck wants nothing to do with us."

Clarke barely stifles a laugh. She knows it's mean, she knows she probably should not be taking so much pleasure from the team's failure — but they chose their path, and as such their destiny. And Clarke is going to make damn sure that they keep on failing until the job is over.

Later that day, Clarke notices she has three new texts from Lexa. One of them hits her particularly hard.

**Lexa: Why are you hanging with Nate and ignoring me? Is this some sort of punishment?**

Clarke wants to text her, call her, tell her time and again that it's not punishment at all, keep telling her that until Lexa finally believes it. But she can't. She will not let Lexa get wound up in her work again.

 

* * *

**Day 3**

Clarke is having a ball. It is a Monday, the first day of the second week, and they are once again out on a "mission." She knows it will happen, and when it happens, she will probably double over laughing. Or she would, if she were with the team. But she is with Nate, telling him some story about cheese and bees, pretending that their talk last week never happened. He is regarding her with concern, which annoys Clarke to no end, but also makes her feel cared for. And apart from Raven and rarely Octavia, that is something she has lacked massively in the past weeks, maybe months.

Except when she is with Lexa. But that is not something she will allow herself to think about.

So she takes Nate out for lunch, she laughs and smiles and pretends to be fine, and for a handful of fleeting hours, she feels like it. But Clarke knows better.

//

Raven is perhaps the happiest woman on planet fucking Earth right now. She loves when she gets to do stupid stuff for a good reason. Like making things go boom. Or sleeping with her arrogant boss. Or breaking ridiculously expensive stuff. And today, she gets to do exactly that.

She doesn't know why the team are being bitter brats about the mission. Maybe it's envy rearing it's ugly green head, and blinding them enough for them no to realise the stupidity and sheer awfulness of their plan. Maybe it's the fact that they spent so long getting money for fooling rich fools that they have forgotten that their targets are human beings, or at least hardened enough to forget they have feelings. Maybe they got so rich that they don't care anymore. Maybe it's all of the above. Maybe it's neither.

What Raven knows for sure s that they're being pretty fucking stupid. Besides, she kind of loves it, for how else could she do what she's about to do?

Even so, Raven has seen and been fooled by too many monsters not to recognise it when she sees one. She doesn't want to believe her friends are monsters, but the truth is it's all she can see when she looks at them. At least Clarke has maintained a shred of dignity and humanity.

 _Focus on the positive_ , she tells herself, and damn right. Raven will do that.

She tagged along for the mission today, under the guise of having taken a day off to make up for the extra hours she has been working. In fact, it's just part of Raven and Clarke's carefully concocted plan. And a brilliant one, at that. But then again: pretty much everything Raven Reyes does is brilliant.

Jasper is readying his camera, whilst Bellamy and Octavia are giving him what Raven guesses is supposed to be a pep talk, but sounds more like intimidation. Monty steps in, laying a hand on both their backs, and tells them he will take it from here. Its a good thing that he does, because Jasper looks like he's about to shit his pants.

The small pep talk finishes and Raven takes it as her cue to start talking.

"Guys, have I told you about that time I made a top tech NASA lab go boom… and got a promotion?"

They all groan and roll their eyes. "Yes you have. Countless times," Octavia deadpans. "But by all means, tell us again."

Raven smirks; she already expected this outcome. She looks over at Clarke, who is standing with Miller several yards away, and then at Jasper, who is starting to take some test pictures. It's showtime.

"So my boss, aka NASA, wanted a low-budget explosive," she starts, making sure to wave her arms around as she speaks. She can hear Bellamy grumble about how she even manages to always tell the story the exact same way. "So obviously, I attempted to synthesize 2-(tert-butylsulfonyl)iodosylbenzene, a partially soluble form of iodosylbenzene that is particularly convenient for use as an oxygen source in studies of catalytic chemical oxidations, such as olefin to epoxide reactions." Raven knows they get about zero percent of what she's saying, but that's exactly part of the plan. "The synthesis procedure was a modified version of a procedure first described by Dainius Macikenas and his coworkers, which in turn had been adapted from a tested Organic Syntheses preparation.

"One modification was the use of a higher H2O2/iodobenzene ratio (25 instead of 2.8) while maintaining a similar H2O2 concentration," she continues as she gets marginally gradually closer to Jasper. "Likely more relevant was a second modification: the use of 35% by weight (freshly opened) hydrogen peroxide, rather than the 30 wt % solution indicated in the Macikenas procedure. However, the procedure entails combining aqueous H2O2 with acetic anhydride to form peracetic acid. The water component of the aqueous H2O2 solution should serve to remove excess acetic anhydride. I let some acetic anhydride remain after conversion of the majority to peracetic acid or acetic acid, the anhydride combined with peracetic acid to form diacetyl peroxide. This organic peroxide is known to be a shock-sensitive explosive. That was what I wanted.

"Of course," Raven goes on, and her hand gestures are wider and more flamboyant, "we usually do this kind of experience in a closed environment, in small doses, with machines that mix the stuff for us, so we can be outside in safety. But I wanted to see it work as it would in the real world. So I kind of did it all in my lab, with no protection," she beams. "Except for the basic glasses and gloves, of course. I'm not an idiot."

Octavia laughs mockingly at the last sentence, but Raven shuts her up with a glare. "So basically," she resumes, now right next to Jasper, who is readjusting the lens by taking it on and off several times, a common ritual of his, "peracids, not just peracetic acid, are all highly reactive chemicals and all work with them must be treated as a high risk task. The initial combination was 35 mL of 35% by weight H2O2 in water added to 165 mL of acetic anhydride in a 500-mL round-bottom flask. There are several more manipulations, though, and it wasn’t until the final product that the show started. Upon concentrating the product in this reaction and drying, enough of the explosive diacetyl peroxide remained behind in the solid product to trigger the explosion when I attempted to break up the product with a spatula.

"What this means," Raven gloats, "is that I provided  _shock_ ," she exclaims with a clap of her hands, "and made it go BOOM!" Her hands release from their grip and fly wide to emulate the visual effect of an explosion. Her right hand, however, makes a slight detour towards Jasper's lens and hits it with as much strength as Raven can use, effectively knocking it out of his hands and making it land with a screeching crash on the ground. The sound of broken glass is followed by several shards being spat out of the lens, leaving no doubt that it is irremediably broken.

Jasper wails.

He falls on his knees, mourning the destroyed lens. Octavia lets out a yelping screech, her face paling until she looks like a cadaver. Monty starts looking for a spare lens in Jasper's bag, to no avail. Bellamy fixes Raven with a glare worthy of the most barbaric murderer.

"Sorry," Raven says lamely. "Didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to?!" he growls as he steps forward menacingly. "Didn't mean to?! What the fuck Raven, you just ruined a thousand-dollars lens with your stupid, boring, over-repetitive story! For what? To massage your stupid overgrown ego? To make your big fucking head even bigger? Get the hell out of here, you're never coming with us again!"

She scoffs. "You're acting like I did it on purpose."

"Fuck you, Raven."

"Fuck  _you_ , Bellamy."

"You wish," he sniggers.

"Oh believe me. I did that once. Not an experience I'd like to repeat."

Raven walks away, leaving a myriad of expletives and insults from Bellamy behind. She shrugs and smirks, not really minding the outcome. Mission accomplished. That's all that really matters. Besides, she knows that sooner rather than later this episode will be thoroughly forgotten.

Clarke tells her some hours later that the plan worked.

 

* * *

**Day 4**

"No, Octavia. No need to come over. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather."

Clarke figures that calling in sick is the most common way of escaping work, so why not use that to her advantage?

_"Clarke, I want to make sure you're taking care of yourself. Have you talked to your mom? Have you called Miller?"_

"Yeah, I called him to say I couldn't make it today," she reassures, rasping her voice to make it sound sicker. "And my mom is flying to Oregon, so I couldn't reach her."

 _"And are you_ sure _that you have a cold?"_

"Octavia, do you not hear my voice?"

 _"Right. You're right,_ _sorry. Do you have a fever?"_

"Yeah Raven gave me a thermometer, it's at 101º."

_"Holy shit. That's not under the weather, that's being sick! I'm coming over, C. No way I'm letting you power through this on your own."_

If Clarke were actually sick, she would be grateful. But this means she will have to not only sound sick, but also  _look_ sick. And that is another challenge entirely. One she fortunately got ready for.

"You really don't need to, O."

_"Yes I do. I'm your best friend, it's what best friends do. I'll be there in twenty."_

With that, the line comes dead and Clarke lets out a loud groan. This is the first of her two "sick days," Friday and Saturday. She reckons that being sick for two days is perfectly plausible, even more so than just for one.

Lexa has kept texting, claiming that she will keep bugging Clarke until she finally gets an answer. It fills Clarke with a warmth that spreads from her chest to her whole body, knowing that someone cares enough to press until she relents and lets them in. She wants to text Lexa back and reconnect, but knows it is not a luxury she can afford. She pockets the phone, remembering she has twenty minutes to make her house look like that of someone with a cold.

Clarke starts to make herself some tea, knowing it will be boiling when Octavia arrives and ready to be finished by the brunette. Then she heads to the fridge and takes out some items she prepared for this eventuality, such as soup, some healthy salads, and a huge bottle of water that she tries not to feel bad for half-emptying. "Sorry, planet. I'll take the subway everywhere this week." It's a fair bargain.

She gets a handful of pillows from her closet and spreads them in her bead, making a big pillow made of pillows, and fetches some blankets to drape on top of herself. She She strips to a pyjamas and lies down. Octavia has a spare key, so she will not have to make her way to the door, thus making the charade more believable. Clarke clears her throat several times, making it feel scratchier, and rests her laptop on her legs, waiting for her friend to arrive.

Just two minutes short of the established twenty, Clarke's door opens, revealing a panting Octavia. "I'm here!" the brunette announces with a grin when she gets to Clarke's bedroom, but then it falters once she sees Clarke lying on the bed. "You've got yourself some germs there, Princess," she jokes lightly.

Clarke groans. "Tell me about it. Can you fetch the kettle and a cup please? The tea should be ready by now."

Octavia does as told and returns some minutes later with a cup full of hot tea to the brim.

"Did you take your temperature?" the brunette asks as she hands Clarke her tea.

"I told you, yes. Raven gave me a thermometer." One that was specifically tampered with to always give a temperature around five degrees higher than the real one.

"Do it again," Octavia instructs as she arranges the pillows around Clarke. "But with this one instead," she says, pulling out a thermometer from her purse. "You know I only trust my childhood thermometer, everything else is always some shitty uncalibrated pharmacy thing-shit."

Clarke snorts and shakes her head. Still, she extends her hand. "Alright, give me it then. But can you please make me a sandwich?"

"Sure," the brunette grins. "Ham, cheese, tuna paste and tomato?"

"You know me," Clarke winks as she sets the cup down on her bedside table and settles the thermometer in her armpit. "Now go. I'm starving."

As soon as Octavia has left the room, Clarke takes the thermometer from her armpit and dips the metallic tip in the scorching tea. She keeps it immerse until it starts beeping. She looks at the temperature and smiles.

"Octavia!" Clarke calls. "It beeped!"

Seconds later, Octavia comes running into her bedroom. She takes the small device from Clarke's hands and her eyes widen. "102.5 Fahrenheit?! I knew that stupid thing of Raven's couldn't be trusted, you're even worse than you thought!"

"Really, Octavia, it's not—"

"Shush," the brunette cuts her off. "I'm gonna help you get it out of your system. You know what I always say: wine yourself, beef yourself, and muffle yourself. And I don't mean drinking wine, I mean drinking buckets of water."

Clarke reaches for her half-empty bottle of water and shakes it. "Already taking care of that," she smirks. "And the blankets are keeping me pretty warm."

"You need more food," Octavia decides, hands on her hips in a motherly way.

"Will you leave me alone after that? I don't want you to catch this shit."

The brunette raises her hands in resignation. "As you wish. But first, I'm going to make you some soup and order some greasy food."

"I already have soup," Clarke argues.

"Clarkey," Octavia coos in a mockingly condescending tone, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind Clarke's ear, "we all know your soup sucks. It will probably kill you before it heals you."

Clarke flips her off as Octavia leaves the room laughing.

 

Two hours later, Octavia has left and Clarke is surrounded by tupperware's of soup, bowls of salad, and boxes of pizza. She takes everything to the kitchen, storing it in the fridge, and keeps only a box of pizza by her bed. Might as well eat some.

Once she has eaten six slices of pizza, Clarke goes to bed and closes her eyes, taking the chance to make up for lost sleep. Her eyes are closed and sleep has almost taken her when a knock on the door startles her from slumber. Clarke gets out of bed and walks to the door, annoyed at having been denied her precious sleep.

"You have a fucking key, Octavia!" she yells to the closed door. "I'll never get why you only use it when you feel like it! Besides, I told you I'm sick," she unlocks the door and swings it open, "so leave me—"

Clarke's eyes widen and her jaw drops to the floor. In front of her is the last person she expected to see.

"Lexa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next one will be 100% better.
> 
> Poor Jasper.
> 
> Also, a friend of mine actually did the tea thing once — it worked. She skipped like a week of school thanks to that. Don't do it, kids. It's a bad example. School is important.
> 
> The "wine yourself, beef yourself, and muffle yourself" was shamelessly taken from a Portuguese idiom (avinha-te, abifa-te e abafa-te).


	8. "Lexa"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked writing this chapter, it's my favourite so far. I hope you like it :)
> 
> I apologise in advance for any glaring errors.

Lexa is standing there, looking the most casual Clarke has ever seen her, hands clasped behind her back and a concerned frown over searching green eyes.

"You're sick." That is all she says as a greeting and Clarke is taken aback. She was expecting to be scolded, yelled at, insulted, anything. Anything but concern for her well being. "Nate told me."

"Well. Yeah but—"

"Clarke."  It is so soft, the way her name leaves Lexa's lips. Nothing like the wide-eyed stupor Clarke is in right now, or the fear surging within her.

"Lexa."

A tiny lopsided smile appears in plump lips. "I believe you've said that already."

Silence falls upon them, Lexa looking at Clarke in a way the blonde cannot really describe, Clarke deciding whether to avoid the intensity of that stare or drown in it.

"May I come in?"

Reality finally catches up with Clarke. "Yeah. Of course, come in. Yeah."

She steps aside, letting Lexa come in. The brunette steps in tentatively, as if she is entering some uncharted world. She lays her car keys on a chifforobe in front of the sofa, just a few feet away from the door.

Silence returns, neither quite sure how to break it. Clarke takes a deep breath; it is time to come clean, if not about everything, then at least about some things. The more immediate ones.

"I'm not—" She sighs. "I'm not really sick."

Lexa's brow furrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I... I faked it," Clarke admits. "To escape my friends."

Lexa nods slowly, taking in the information pensively. "Escape your friends... Or escape Nate?" she probes, glint of sadness in her eyes. A jaw clenches. "Escape me?"

Clarke shakes her head decidedly, some vile hand taking her heart in a vice grip. "No, Lexa, you know I don't—"

"I know nothing, Clarke," the brunette cuts her off quite harshly, yet her voice is if not calm, almost tender, with a hint of exasperation to it. But there is no aggressiveness. It is green eyes that burn and a chiselled jaw that strains, and the vice grip on Clarke's heart tightens. Lexa's hand cuts the air in short downward motions, making her point. It is usual in her, to illustrate her words with an open hand. "All I know is that you left me in a closet almost two weeks ago and never spoke to me again."

The vile hand curls its fingers even more tightly around Clarke's heart. She is left without words. Lexa's expression softens.

So does her voice, "I do not need an explanation, Clarke." Her eyes are so green and so tender, her voice so careful. "I simply want a decision. One that is duly reported to me, face to face. If you don't wish to keep spending time with me, in whatever capacity that may be, then tell me."

Clarke opens her mouth to say exactly that, but finds she is not brave enough.

Lexa sighs. "Then tell me you do want to spend time with me," she coaxes.

It is now Clarke who heaves a sigh, this one defeated. "I can't do that."

"Then you are keeping not only yourself in this limbo, but me as well."

Clarke huffs deeply, frustratedly, and strides to the sofa, where she sits down heavily with her elbows propped on her knees and her face hiding in lost hands. Suddenly a hand hovers over her knee, not quite touching it but close enough to feel its warmth, and Clarke tears her hands away from her eyes to find Lexa crouching in front of her, a worried expression on her face.

"Tell me what is bothering you," the brunette whispers.

Clarke does not even know where to start. "My job," she says finally. "I'm trying to avoid my job." And it is not a lie, but it is not the complete truth either.

Lexa frowns with confusion. "Why would you want to avoid your job? I thought you loved it."

"There's some things... we've been doing. I don't completely agree with." It is vague, but it is the only answer Clarke can give right now.

"Things don't always have to be one hundred per cent ethically sound, Clarke," Lexa replies gravely. "We might not like the path we are taking sometimes, but we must do what is necessary."

"Necessary for what?"

"Survival. Doing the best we can for our company. For our people."

Clarke shakes her head firmly. "Still. This is too much."

Lexa moves to sit on the couch, occupying the spot next to the blonde. "Don't run away from your job, Clarke. Maybe... Find another solution?" Lexa coos. "Take a different approach."

Clarke heaves a doubtful sigh. "Maybe." A pause. "Lexa, I have to tell you someth—"

Lexa holds up a hand and Clarke finds herself falling silent. "Whatever your reasons were for ignoring me, I have no interest in knowing what they were. I believe you were doing what you thought was right, by whomever or whatever that was."

"So you— you're not angry?"

"I am... hurt," Lexa admits. "But I am not one to hold onto grudges. Life is too short for that." Lexa breathes in deeply, like she is gathering courage to say her next words. "I want a fresh start, Clarke."

The blonde is bewildered. "A fresh start? Lexa, you know that's not remotely possible with us."

Both women lower their gazes, afraid to find whatever truths lie in blue and green. "We can be friends," Lexa mutters.

Clarke looks up at the brunette again, a new fire in her eyes. "Can we though? Because every time I see you all I want to do is kiss you."

Lexa's eyes widen minutely. "That— is not a very friendly thought," she admits as she swallows. It fuels Clarke's fire.

The blonde leans closer, her eyes burning into Lexa's. "And every time I see you, all I want to do is grab the back of your neck and kiss you senseless," she rasps. When she sees Lexa's eyes darken, she adds with an even huskier voice, "How is that for a friendly thought?"

Lexa locks her jaw, the thrill of a challenge igniting in her virid eyes. "All I want to do is pin you to the wall and kiss all the way down your neck until you are begging me to take you." Her voice is a slow, low growl, the tone authoritative and dangerous, and it sends a shiver up Clarke's spine.

"Well may you should do it," Clarke challenges.

"Maybe I should."

"Maybe I will."

Clarke surges forward like a predator. Luckily, her prey is all but willing. Their lips crash wildly, eagerly, a clash of teeth and lips and passion.

It does not feel like a first kiss. It feels like a second and a third and a fourth, as though the three almost's really happened and this is just the culmination of them all. The fire burning inside of Clarke grows and bursts, and shatters every inch of her skin at the feeling of Lexa's lips in hers.

"Second door on the right," she mumbles into Lexa's lips, no need to say anything else as the brunette nods haphazardly.

Lexa stumbles off the sofa, coming to stand, and pulls Clarke off the ground with her, helping the blonde's legs wrap around her waist. Clarke circles Lexa's neck with her arms, a hand tangling in her chestnut curls and the other in the back of her neck, pulling it ever closer, and feels a hand supporting her ass, and a second on her back. The kiss is heated and hungry, but also gentle enough that both are able to communicate their feelings through it. Lexa staggers backwards, holding Clarke firmly in her arms, until the blonde swipes her tongue along the brunette's lower lip.

Lexa lets out a moan and trips on her own feet. Clarke would find it hilarious, if not for the hard thump she hears when Lexa stumbles rearward, which she recognises as the brunette's head hitting the edge of the chifforobe wooden top. They fall onto Lexa's back, Clarke still straddling her hips, and the blonde lets out a yelp when Lexa's head hits the floor harshly, Clarke's hands landing on either side of the brunette's head. Blonde hair cascades down and tingles the tan skin on Lexa's face, but when Clarke opens her eyes, she sees Lexa's are closed and the brunette shows no reaction at all to any physical stimuli. Panic surges within Clarke, who knows what this means.

"Lexa," she calls urgently, then proceeds to softly slap the brunette's cheek. "Lexa, open your eyes. Lexa."

“Clar-bleh-mnhuh-mnhuh,” Lexa mumbles incoherently with a foolish drunken smile, only to lose consciousness again.

"Lexa, wake up!" Clarke begs. "Fuck."

No reaction. Clarke stumbles off of Lexa and runs to her phone, lying on her bedside table. She quickly dials the emergency number. Some woman picks up and Clarke does not even give her time before she is vomiting words into the line. "I need an ambulance right now, my friend hit her head and she's lost consciousness." She checks Lexa's pulse and rests the back of her fingers against the brunette's skin, feeling its temperature. "Her pulse is low and her skin is cold, she babbled incoherently and fainted again, please come quickly, I suspect she has a concussion." She proceeds to mumble her address into the phone and hangs up when the woman tells her help was on the way.

Clarke retrieves a small bench from the chifforobe and lay Lexa's feet on it, then kneels beside the brunette and opens her mouth and tilts her head up, clearing the airways. She checks Lexa's pulse again, relieved to feel that it is stable. Soon enough (surprisingly soon, Clarke notes), there is a knock on her door and Clarke runs to open it, letting in the first responders. She quickly tells them she is a doctor and explains the situation, then lets them do their job.

A minute later, Lexa is opening her eyes slowly and Clarke finally lets out a breath of relief. The brunette is carried down the stairs and taken into an ambulance, which Clarke enters after everyone, insisting that she needs to keep a close eye on her "friend."

  

* * *

 

When they finally let her in Lexa's room, the sun is nearly fully set behind the jungle of skyscrapers that paint the concrete picture of New York. Nate is already there, of course; Clarke called him as soon as she got to the hospital, as he was the only one who had the clearance to see Lexa immediately. He smiled wryly at her amidst the concern and Clarke chose to ignore how messed up it was that Nate was happily aware of what had happened between her and... his fiancée. Two other people entered the room before Clarke. The blonde identified them as Indra Tombom and Anya Odon, Lexa's terrifying right-hand woman and best friend, respectively.

They glared at Clarke the whole time they shared the waiting room, never even directing her a word. It was... uncomfortable, for the lack of a better term.

But now, now Clarke gets to see Lexa, and all else is forgotten. She enters the room sheepishly, craning her neck to glance at the bed sitting in the middle of the room. She finally sees Lexa, covered by a heavy blanket and with a couple of tubes running out of her, and her lips break into a smile.

"Hey," she whispers, as if afraid to startle the brunette out of her fragile state.

Green eyes find blue and a tired but sweet, lopsided smile graces Lexa's lips. "Hello, Clarke."

The blonde walks up to the bed and sits in a chair next to it. She gingerly takes Lexa's hand in hers. "You scared me."

Lexa's smile turns into a smirk. "Good to know you care."

Clarke cannot help the frown that worries her eyes. "Of course I care, Lexa," she whispers softly. "I didn't kiss—" Clarke thinks over her words more carefully. "What happened before you fell... It happened for a reason."

Lexa looks up at her with big, hopeful, overwhelmed eyes. "What reason was that?" she asks, as though she has no idea of how Clarke feels about her. Maybe she really does not know. Or maybe she just really needs confirmation.

Clarke smiles fondly and brings her hand to Lexa's forehead, caressing softly and sweeping brown curls away from green eyes. “It happened because I care about you. Regardless of… the last couple of weeks,” she sighs. “And you really did scare me for a moment there.”

“Only a moment?” Lexa smirks.

Clarke chuckles and finds that she cannot stop smiling. “More than a moment,” she concedes. “Especially with the whole fainting and incoherent babbling.”

Clarke melts into a puddle when Lexa frowns adorably. “I did not babble.” The blonde’s face splits into a huge grin. “I do not babble,” Lexa protests.

“Oh but you did,” Clarke beams teasingly. “You said something like ‘Clarke babe you’re so hot’.”

“I didn’t— I most certainly did not call you _babe_ ,” Lexa pouts and folds her arms over her chest.

“Alright, maybe that part’s not true, but you did babble unintelligibly.”

Lexa’s only answer is a roll of her eyes. That is the moment a nurse chooses to show up at the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss Woods,” he greets. “I see you’re awake already. And smiling,” he adds.

“It is a normal bodily function for human beings,” Lexa deadpans.

“And she’s got a sense of humour,” Clarke chimes in with a smirk.

The nurse smiles back charmingly at the blonde, who misses Lexa’s heavy eye roll.

“So how’s the head, Miss Woods?”

“Hurts,” she deadpans again.

“You know that’s nowhere near a helpful answer, right?” Clarke chides. Lexa ignores her.

“Well you didn’t vomit or show any other worrying signs, so you’re free to go, Miss Woods,” the nurse smiles. “Like I told your fiancé before, you have a concussion, nothing to worry about. I mean, it could’ve been, but it isn’t. How did you get it again?”

Clarke turns to look at Lexa and smirks when she sees the brunette’s face is beet red.

“I tripped,” Lexa mumbles, “while carrying something heavy.” Clarke glares at her and covertly pinches Lexa’s side. Lexa jumps in place comically with a little yelp. “It was light! It was very light,” she corrects quickly. “I was just— unprepared,” she finally settles. “And I was walking backwards.”

“Okay,” the nurse accepts with a shrug. “Well you’ll have to be more careful from now on, can’t have you getting another concussion, now can we?”

Lexa shakes her head with a bored expression. “So that means I get to go home?” she asks flatly.

“Yep. I recommend absolute rest for the next twenty-four hours though and mild rest for the next week. No driving during that time. I’ll call your fiancé to help you get dressed.”

“I am not a child,” Lexa growls. “I can get dressed by myself.”

The nurse looks doubtful but finally relents when Clarke says, “I’ll help her.” He nods and leaves the room, leaving behind a grouching Lexa.

“You are not seriously considering help me get dressed?” the brunette asks petulantly as the blonde closes the door and returns to her side.

“No,” Clarke smirks. “But I wanted to give you one last recommendation.”

Lexa frowns and tilts her head in confusion. “But Clarke, how can there be more— oh." Kind hands cup Lexa's face and all words die in Clarke's lips. It is a slow kiss, a first kiss, one that remains chaste throughout and lingers in the smooth waltz of their lips. It is the kiss that Clarke has dreamed about countless times, as opposed to the agency of their first. Lexa's lips are soft, something Clarke barely registered the first time around; so soft. And gentle. Deft, also, as they encase Clarke's upper lip and suck on it gently, drawing a quiet moan from the blonde.

Lexa's arms circle Clarke's waist and tug her closer, pulling their bodies flush together. Their lips dance and slide almost lazily, but never quite, against each other, every step a careful and tender song, until they need to part for air. Lexa brushes her nose against Clarke's and goes to explore a different angle, but as soon as their lips touch, Clarke pulls away with a smile, her eyes taking their time to open. Why return to reality when this kiss is better than her every dream?

She eventually opens her eyes and the sight that welcomes them back to the world is worth every sunrise in her lifetime. Lexa's eyes are half-lidded, pupils completely blow, her lips parted with desire, cheeks tinged pink from the gentle warmth of the kiss. Clarke rests her forehead against the brunette's.

"That was... a very informative recommendation," Lexa whispers, her voice still husky.

Clarke smiles sweetly. "This is what happened, Lexa, and we'll talk about it," she says honestly.

"We will," the brunette nods.

"Tomorrow. When you're resting in bed, because you have a concussion."

Lexa frowns. "I have responsibilities, Clarke. I cannot lay in bed all day just because I had a minor head injury. Which I am fully recovered from, by the way."

"Your only responsibility right now is getting better," Clarke chastises. "And you're definitely not fully recovered. Stop playing Superman."

"I am not playing anything, Clarke," the brunette grumbles, "I simply have responsibilities I canno—"

Lexa's words are cut off by Clarke's lips on hers. It is short, merely a press of lips, but enough to make Lexa forget what she was saying and take a few seconds to recover from her daze.

"You kissed me just to shut me up," Lexa scolds.

"And it worked," Clarke grins. When Lexa shoots her a pointed look, however, her expression morphs into complete innocence. "What, did you not like it? I won't ever do it again if you don't want me to." Lexa rolls her eyes, but Clarke can see that she is fighting off a smile. She gives a final peck to the brunette's lips. "Hmm I really like doing this." Lexa's lopsided smile is a sight for sore eyes. "Don't forget to text me your address."

"Why?"

"So I can visit you, dummy."

Clarke turns around and heads for the door, not needing to look back to know that Lexa is rolling her eyes. She already has her hand on the handle when she remembers one last thing. She turns back with a warning finger pointed at Lexa.

"You'd better stay in bed and rest tomorrow, or I'll personally go to your office and give you another concussion."

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke is leaving the hospital when she sees Octavia climbing up the stairs. The brunette halts immediately and narrows her eyes at Clarke in suspicion.

"What are you doing here?"

Clarke's mind is fast to come up with an excuse. "Came to see my mom," she replies hoarsely, feigning a sore throat. "Sick out of my mind, remember?"

"Oh," Octavia says shyly, probably ashamed that she made assumptions.

"What are you doing here?" Clarke asks curiously.

The brunette jerks her thumb behind her own back, pointing at the myriad of journalists of photographers. "The media circus is for Lexa Woods, she apparently hit her head or something."

"What?" Clarke fakes shock and worry. "Is she all right?"

"From what I've gathered, she's fine. That's what I came in to check," Octavia admits sheepishly and looks down at her fidgeting feet. "Thought you would appreciate it."

Clarke's heart smiles with warmth. "Thank you."

Octavia shrugs, clearly trying to put on a strong front, but Clarke can see right through her. "That's what friends are for, right?"

Instead of responding, Clarke steps forward and envelops the small brunette in a tight hug. Octavia melts into it right away. "I love you, O."

Octavia holds back tighter. "I love you too, Clarke." They stay like that for several seconds, silent sobs coming from Clarke's shoulder, where the brunette has buried her head. "We need to talk about this."

Clarke leans back, feeling emotional herself, and strokes her friend's cheek fondly, wiping a lone tear away. "Yes we do. Monday?"

Octavia nods and breaks away from the hug. "I'm not saying I'll change my mind completely but... We can reach a compromise."

"I'd like that," Clarke sniffles, her eyes beginning to tear up as well. "Thank you."

"No," Octavia shakes her head decidedly. "Thank you."

Clarke nods, no need for words at this moment, and gives her friend another quick hug. "Please keep me posted. She means... a lot to me."

Octavia smiles, an unspoken promise in her honest lips. They part with a third hug and as soon as their backs are turned to each other, Clarke pulls out her phone.

 

**Clarke: If Octavia asks, I was with you. And I'm horribly sick.**

**Mom: Do I want to know the story?**

**Clarke: Nope. Thanks mom.**

**Mom: Anytime sweetie :) <3**

**Clarke: Omg please don't use smileys, you're old.**

**Mom: So what was it I had to tell Octavia? That I haven't seen you around all day?**

**Clarke: You look so young, how old are you? 20?**

**Mom: Thought so. Love you.**

**Clarke: Love you too mom and thanks <3**

 

Clarke smiles at the interaction. Just as she is about to tuck her phone away in her pocket, it buzzes with a new message.

 

**Lexi: 157 West 57th Street, Manhattan. Top two floors.**

**Clurph: So I assume you'll be staying in bed tomorrow ;)**

**Lexi: Alas, I had no choice. Doctor's orders.**

**Clurph: And who is the miraculous doctor that managed to convince wannabe Superman to rest?**

**Lexi: You.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was worth the wait x)
> 
> Clarke has two serious talks in store, let's see how they go.
> 
> Also. I won't update as regularly. My job is taking up a LOT of my time so the time to write has been cut short. I'll make an effort to not keep you waiting too long for each chapter though. I want this to move as fast as possible.
> 
> Thank you for reading and for all your kudos and comments, they genuinely give me life and above all motivation. Thank you :)


	9. "may I come in?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Again, sorry for the delay, but you know. Work. Not much time to write. But don't worry, slow or fast, this fic will be finished, and in reasonable time. You won't have to wait like a year or anything like that for it to be done.
> 
> This chapter is for the anon whose birthday was yesterday. Happy belated birthday :D
> 
> Any mistakes are mine, as per usual. Hope you like this chapter, it's all Clexa :)

The moment she looks up at the 90-storey tall skyscraper, Clarke feels miserably out of her depth. She looks down at herself, checking that her clothes don't look too...  _poor_ for this kind of building.  Then she remembers Lexa would never even think about that and quite frankly, Clarke could care less about what other people think.

Clarke enters the building (Lexa told her there were two ways in, one for the hotel and another for the residents) and is soon faced with the utter luxury of it. She looks around, unsure of where to go, until she hears someone clear their throat behind her.

Clarke turns around to find a man, half doorman half butler, smiling kindly at her. "Are you looking for someone?" And  _of course_ he is English.

"Uhm yeah," Clarke is startled out of her thoughts by the realisation that he is still waiting for an answer. "Lexa— Alexandria Woods. Top floor?"

His smile widens and becomes even kinder, if that is even possible. "Ah," he says wryly. "Miss Woods said she was expecting a friend."

He starts walking heading to a corridor, and Clarke follows, falling into step with him. "So... You know her? I mean— you know her well?"

"Well enough to know that she is a very nice girl." He pauses for a second, then seems to decide there is no wrong in expanding. "She never wants our help for the simple tasks, like every other resident," he chuckles. "Says she is here to sleep, not be babysat."

"So she doesn't want a nanny," Clarke smirks, thinking that is exactly what she will be serving as in the next few hours.

"Not at all. But she could use a friend right now," the man says thoughtfully. "She is not—" he seems lost for words, perhaps trying to find the best way to express whatever thoughts are running through his mind. "This building was not her choice," he finally settles. "The loft was given to Miss Woods some time ago, when she founded Command. It would have been highly disrespectful to refuse, of course, but she has frequently voiced her distaste for its... luxury."

Clarke smiles fondly. Lexa in a ridiculous skyscraper like this makes much more sense now. "What do you think about it?" she asks the man curiously.

They stop by an elevator, which the man gestures for Clarke to enter, and he inserts a small key into the "Penthouse" button, which apparently can only be pushed once unlocked. "Me? Well, my opinion hardly counts, but," he smiles knowingly while rolling the key and and pulling it out, "I think a commander needs their tower."

Clarke grins as the doors close between them. A moment later, the elevator is smoothly travelling up, the numbers flashing in a small screen on the wall. After what feels like an eternity, there is a soft 'ding' and the doors open to reveal a small, sombre carpeted hall, with a normal-looking door at the end.

As soon as she approaches the door, however, she realises it has no handle. There is an intercom at its right, with a button that Clarke pushes, and she hears a bell sound inside whatever this door holds passage to. It takes a few moments of Clarke looking around the door and herself, checking for any hidden cameras, until she hears the door click.

With tentative fingers, she presses her hand against the door and pushes it open. What it reveals to her leaves Clarke's feet rooted to the floor in awe.

Windows. Floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere, with staggering views upon the city. There are columns — actual columns — and chandeliers and curtains and gold. Everything is... Rich. Luxurious. Ludicrous. But most of all, beautiful. A voice coming from the intercom snaps Clarke out of her awestruck daze.

"Are you going to stand there all day or come to my room?" Lexa asks with a humorous bite to her voice.

Now knowing that there is effectively some camera somewhere and the brunette can see her, Clarke works on her best smirk. "Well, when you offer it like that—"

"Clarke," Lexa cuts sharply, and the blonde can practically see the eye roll that comes with it.

"So... Where in this behemoth of a house can I find your bedroom?"

Lexa sighs and she does sound like she hates this apartment. Clarke cannot possibly imagine why. "Just head all the way left, you will find it. Follow the park."

 _The park? Follow the park?_ Clarke thinks, completely confused, then she steps in and looks at the view from the windows and— _oh_.

Follow Central Park.

Clarke does as told, seeking the full view of the big rectangle in the heart of Manhattan, and she notices with fondness that every flat surface that she walks by is littered with lit up candles. She soon finds a wall keeping her from going forward, and a door that she supposes is the threshold for the best view of the city. Her knuckles rap on it and immediately Lexa is telling her to come in.

Clarke pushes the door open and steps inside the room, and for the second time that day she finds her feet planted to the floor as she takes in the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows that stand tall in front of the door. Central Park — all of it, plus a lot of streets beside it and buildings and people and  _life_ — extends into view, beyond the horizon, the only thing that anyone looking out the window can see. If Clarke thought the view from the hall or any other place in this apartment was amazing — well, what to say of this. It was like she had climbed to the Olympus of Manhattan and was looking out over a kingdom, Lexa's kingdom, such privilege, yet such responsibility.

A throat clears and Clarke tears her eyes away from the windows, looking to her left. Lying on a king-size bed that faces the windows, covers thrown over her lithe body, book in her lap and glasses sitting on her nose, is Lexa. An unexpected surge of warmth spreads inside Clarke's chest.

"Hey," she greets with a bright, the windows entirely forgotten.

One of the corners of Lexa's lips tilts up in her signature lopsided smile. "Hello, Clarke."

Clarke drops the bag she was carrying and strides to the bed with a smirk. "I see you've followed your doctor's orders and stayed in bed."

"Well," Lexa shrugs as the blonde sits down on the edge of the bed, "the doctor is a stubborn fool."

Clarke swings her feet onto the bed and lies beside Lexa, leaning in to give the brunette a short peck on the lips. They both smile into the small press of lips, then Clarke lies back, her arms on one of the pillows and folded behind her head. "I think that doctor knows their shit."

Lexa rolls her eyes with a badly suppressed smirk, but then seems to remember what Clarke came here for and her smile fades. "We should talk." It is not hesitant, but it lingers with uncertainty, or maybe a hint of fear of what is to come. Yes, definitely the latter.

Clarke nods pensively. She has thought about this in length. "I'm ready to wait, Lexa," she says determinedly. "I just need to know that I  _will_ be waiting and not— hoping, I guess."

Lexa nods solemnly, as she always does, but says nothing for a long moment. Clarke understands. Many things are at stake for Lexa, many people too, and Clarke knows that the brunette is not one to put her own happiness above her duty. In fact, she is perfectly aware that Lexa would be the first to sacrifice her personal life for her people's and her duty. And so many people depend on Lexa's business, that Clarke cannot possibly demand that the brunette drop everything for her. That would be selfish, and Clarke would not dare do that to Lexa.

At last Lexa breaks the silence, eyes glued to her fidgeting hands. "I can't promise that." Her jaw is clenched and she swallows, a frown troubling the green of her eyes.

Clarke nods. She understands. She does, she really does. Yet she cannot help but be heartbroken by this. She heaves a small sigh, eyes lowering to her own idly twitching fingers. "I know."

Another few moments of silence follow. "But," Lexa says unexpectedly, and Clarke's gaze snaps up to jade eyes. "We could give it a try. Like a trial."

Clarke's words are hesitant. "You mean... Like when you're deciding whether or not to buy a product and they let you have that free trial time?"

Lexa's lips pull into the tiniest of smiles. "Said like that, it sounds awfully businesslike."

Clarke works a small, sad smile of her own. "But it is what it is." Lexa only sighs and nods, eyes trained in long, slender fingers once again. "So we... date for a while and we see if it works out, and if it doesn't, we end it like we never even started?"

Lexa winces a bit at her words, but there is really no other way to say it. "Yes," she breathes out. "I just—" She turns to the blonde. "Clarke, you have to understand—" Another sigh. "I can't risk everything for a relationship that could not even exist three months from now."

"Glad to know you have that much faith in us," Clarke bites, but cringes as soon as the words leave her mouth, and before Lexa can protest, she adds quickly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It was... It was cruel of me."

"But it is what it is," Lexa replies ruefully, echoing the blonde's words from just a minute ago.

They stay silent. There really is not much to say besides the truth, and that has been said already.

Clarke takes a sharp breath in. "What you're asking of me—"

"I know," Lexa nods quietly, then swallows.

"It's fucking complicated," Clarke completes, even though Lexa already knows. "And it hurts."

"I know," the brunette acknowledges once again.

Clarke sighs, completely lost. She really has no right to decide what is complicated or not, or what hurts or doesn't. She really does not have that right. Yet she does, doesn't she? This is a different situation. What Lexa is asking of her is damn near impossible. It's messed up and Clarke, for the sake of her own sanity, cannot accept it.

But then, she is surprised by her own left hand leaving her lap and gently taking a tanner right one in it, then squeezing it tenderly. Lexa's eyes snap up to meet hers and what Clarke sees in them, the sheer awe and hope and adoration, renders her incapable of denying anything to this beautiful wide-eyed woman.

"What you're asking of me is fucking unfair," she says bluntly, honestly, no words spared, for she knows Lexa would hate her to. As it happens, once Clarke regains control of her own hand, she does not pull it away from the brunette's. "But I think... I think that just a glimpse of what it would be like to be with you would be better than nothing at all."

Lexa's eyes widen even more, which seems completely impossible. She swallows for the umpteenth time today. "Are you sure, Clarke? I do not want to make you do something you don't want to."

"But I do," Clarke says, and gives another squeeze to Lexa's hands. "I feel stupid for saying what I said, and even more so for meaning it. I mean, it though. I want to do this, Lexa."

"Clarke—"

"You suggested this," Clarke cuts her off sharply. "At least let me accept it."

Lexa's look is soft, genuine, breathless; brimming with unbridled devotion. "You have the word, Clarke."

"Let's do it," says the blonde more resolutely. "I want this, Lexa." Her gaze hardens, but it also becomes more passionate. "I want you."

"Clarke..." Lexa seems to be hesitating again, and Clarke hates that it seems so hard for the brunette to believe that Clarke would give her the world if she could. "Are you  _sure_?"

"Lexa," she echoes. "I'm positive." The brunette nods at last, solemn and serious, as always, but with a strain that Clarke imagines is pain for having such a horrible, hurtful, yet inevitable idea. "So what are the terms?"

This has Lexa thinking.

"I think it would be appropriate to make our deadline be the wedding."

Clarke nods. That was expected. "So... if it goes wrong, it's settled. But what if we do get to the end of it and still want to be together?"

It is Lexa's turn to be passionate. She turns her full body to Clarke and takes the blonde's free hand in her own. "If we reach the wedding and we still want to be together, it will mean we will have overcome every obstacle in our way, every curve ball that life sends us. If that is true, I will do everything to be with you, Clarke. Everything."

Clarke blinks once, twice, a lump forming in her throat and tears stinging in her eyes. "Three months."

Lexa nods and Clarke can see that she, too, is utterly overwhelmed. "Three months."

"We can do this."

"I hope so."

Clarke leans in and presses her lips against Lexa's, initiating a kiss into which she pours all her feelings, doubts and certainties. Every hesitation and reckless decision, every tear and every smile. She feels Lexa doing so as well, and as their lips slide together in a tender and loving dance, all trouble forgotten. Clarke's hands come up to cup Lexa's cheeks, thumbs brushing over sharp cheekbones, while the brunette's settle on her hips.

Clarke turns her body to press against Lexa's, half on top of the brunette and half flush against her side, making Lexa lean back on her bed as they kiss. Clarke's right leg drapes over Lexa's thighs as her tongue swipes over the brunette's bottom lip. Full, chapped lips part and tongues seek each other out as the kiss deepens, both women desperate for more than a fleeting moment of finally feeling at home.

Lexa's tongue, like her lips, is pure, tender silk, caressing Clarke's own in greeting and exploring her mouth with delicate curiosity and care. Their tongues wrap and curl and slide around each other. Lexa's brushes under the blonde's smoothly, and Clarke's fights to recover its power, swiping slowly and sultrily against the ridged ceiling of the brunette's mouth. Lexa releases a moan at this, one that Clarke hungrily captures with her lips, sucking on her tongue and smirking into the kiss when the brunette can't help a whimper 

It is only when they can no longer fight breathlessness that they pull away for air. Puffs of breath mingle in the short space between their lips. Clarke feels lithe fingers brush her hair gently.

"We could watch a movie," Lexa whispers, gaze loving and all too entranced with Clarke's eyes and lips to bother raising her voice in the least.

"I like that idea," Clarke rasps while snuggling into Lexa's side, right leg hooking around the brunette's.

Lexa smiles shyly and reaches for her bedside table, being careful not to shift too much under Clarke, and picks up what looks like a universal remote. She presses a button and a TV descends from the ceiling, covering part of the window in front of them. 

"Oh of course you have a TV-regurgitating ceiling," Clarke snorts. "Your doorman told me you don't like this house," she tells Lexa in disbelief. "How?"

Lexa shrugs timidly, then one of the corners of her mouth tugs up. "An enormous apartment just for myself? It is kind of lonely, however many distractions there might be."

Clarke considers her words and nods in idle agreement. "Well, maybe if you had someone to share it with. Someone you loved. Then it might be different." Lexa looks at her with wide, sincere eyes and the blonde realises what she just said. "I mean, hypothetically," she tries to salvage quickly.

Lexa nods solemnly, but there is mirth in her eyes. "Hypothetically."

 

* * *

 

The credits roll, but Lexa makes no effort to turn the lights back on. They stay there, lying on the bed, Lexa's arm around Clarke's shoulders and the blonde's head resting on it, nose buried in the brunette's shoulder, both pairs of legs tangled together, and Clarke's right arm draped over Lexa's belly, clutching at her side tenderly. The silence is comfortable, soothing even, and it feels good to breathe this moment in and shut everything else out for some minutes.

Lexa breaks the quiet, eyes still trained on the screen. "I don't want to make you hurt."

Clarke unburies her nose from the brunette's shoulder and looks up at her, gaze tracing Lexa's silhouette in the dark. Long forehead, elegant nose, plump lips, delicate chin. She brings up a hand to run the back of her fingers over sharp, but curiously smooth, cheekbones. "You would get hurt too, Lexa," she whispers back. "And if this goes well, we might not have to get hurt at all."

Lexa smiles faintly, her gaze locking with Clarke's for a moment, then averting back to the television. "I can't believe we are actually doing this," she says, and Clarke detects a hint of fear and wonder. "I will technically be cheating on Nate. But at the same time, I will not, because he supports us." Wide green and smiling blue lock once more. "He supports, us Clarke." Oh, how beautiful her name is in Lexa's lips. "He actually wants us to be together."

"That's fucked up," Clarke chuckles, though a thought seeps graveness back to her voice. "If we're together, you guys won't be."

"We have a deal. We marry, Skysafe is accepted into Command, then after a while we get a divorce."

"That's not a bad deal. And it would allow us to be together," Clarke realises, and leans up a bit to look at Lexa better, gaze hardening. "You don't want that."

Lexa sighs. "I have another idea," she admits. "Actually, I have two. If we do not stay married, both our companies will suffer from the backlash of everyone understanding just the purpose of our union, so the first idea would be to stay together, at least for another decade."

Clarke bites her lip. This clashes with everything they are working towards. "And idea number two?"

A glint of something Clarke thinks she recognises as guilt flashes in Lexa's eyes, but it is gone in an instant. "Idea number two is... crazy. It also depends on too many factors working my way," the brunette confesses. "But if it works out, it is undoubtedly the best possible outcome."

Clarke nods, as enlightened as the dark bedroom about this so-called idea, but decides to drop it. She picks on a different matter instead. "And where do we fit in?"

Lexa bites her lip, chewing on it a bit, eyes lowered. "Somewhere in the middle."

There is more, so much more, Clarke can tell. Yet this is not the time to ask.

"If we  _are_ together by the end of the three months, will you keep your promise?"

"Clarke," Lexa breathes, and once again her emerald gaze is so open that it is almost too much to look at, "if my plan works out, I will not even need to keep my promise."

Clarke's jaw sets, doubt suddenly gnawing at her. "I don't know if that's enough."

It also worries her, because her team has a plan, and she and Lexa have another, and now it turns out there is a third. Too many "genius" plans for everything not to go wrong.

Lexa nods in understanding. She turns onto her side, facing Clarke, eyes locked, noses brushing. "Let me backtrack and put it differently, then," she whispers into the tiny space between their lips. "If we  _are_ together by the end of the three months, I  _will_ keep my promise."

In lieu of an answer, Clarke leans in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clexa are playing a dangerous game.
> 
> Next chapter: Clarke and Octavia talk, plus other things. Also, what is Lexa's "crazy" plan?
> 
> Hope you liked this one! Please leave a comment, I'm a slut for those :p
> 
> Btw if you want to check Lexa's apartment loft lol: http://uk.businessinsider.com/inside-one57-most-expensive-building-2015-11


	10. "three months"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read, I just wanted to say something important, or rather reiterate what I've said before. When it all comes to a head, there won't be half as much angst as you guys seem to think there will be. I have a plan, ok? Just— please trust me.
> 
> That said, I hope you like this chapter! It might seem like a filler, but it's actually really important.
> 
> As always: unbeta'd, so all silly mistakes are mine.
> 
> Ok I'll stop talking now. All-girls chapter. Enjoy!

The atmosphere in the room is tense.

Clarke can sense that they both have different things to say. She supposes that Octavia is nervous to say hers. Clarke simply wants to wait for her friend to talk to speak her own mind. Clarke's decision is made and no one can demove her. She is sitting in Octavia's living room, while the brunette is pacing around the room. One is calm, the other is too nervous for her own good.

"I managed to convince Bellamy to stop."

It is sudden and unexpected, a bombshell of sorts, and it pleases Clarke to no end.

"Go on," she incites, trying to curb her excitement, not just yet believing what she is hearing.

"He still wants to submit what we have," Octavia explains, stopping her pacing, "to get even a small compensation for our work, but it's all shit so I doubt Azgeda will be able to use it." Clarke nods but waits for her friend to develop. "So we'll stop and you can be with Lexa and we can forget this project ever happened."

"I like that idea," Clarke smiles slightly.

Octavia grins in response and drops to her knees in front of Clarke, taking the blonde's hands in her own. "We can move on to other stuff, Clarke. Uncomplicated stuff."

It's Clarke's turn now. "Well, you can. I won't," she says rather off-handedly. "I'm quitting."

"What?!" Octavia jumps up, dropping the blonde's hands. She is livid now, Clarke can see as much. "Clarke, you can't just leave us like that."

"I can and I will," she says fiercely, standing up to. "My decision is final, Octavia."

"Clarke, please reconsider."

"I won't, O. If I want to be with Lexa, I can't keep doing what I do. Sleeping with people while dating her? That's not— I won't do that, Octavia. Besides, I have other dreams," she reminds her friend. "I want to go back to being a doctor."

Octavia nods, seemingly giving up on changing Clarke's mind. "Do you even remember your doctor shit?"

"I have a degree on it," Clarke reminds her, but then smirks. "Besides, I'll have a good teacher to help me remember. Perks of having a doctor mom."

A moment of silence follows, filled only by Octavia heaving a heavy sigh.

"Okay," the brunette nods. "As long as you're happy and you're sure this is what you want to do. I can't stop you," she smiles ruefully. "And I can't say that I didn't see it coming eventually. Just never expected it'd be this soon."

"I'm sorry, Octavia."

"No," the brunette says firmly. "Don't be. I understand. I'll give you the money from the pics as soon as I get it."

"I don't want it," Clarke refuses. "I'm done. That means the money as well. Everything." When Octavia remains silent, Clarke continues. "I liked doing this with you. I did. I loved it, actually. But yesterday I realised that I'm ready to live that life behind and step onto something more serious, more steady. With or without Lexa," she adds before her friend can argue. "I want to build a life for myself, one that I can lead until old age. This... this is like a sports or show business career, as soon as I'm labelled as too old to be fuckable, I'm over."

"That's how beauty works."

"Yeah," she admits pensively. "Do you have to submit the existing photos though?"

"I'm sorry, Clarke, but Bell will only relent under that condition." Octavia laces both their pairs of hands together. "Don't worry, those pictures are shit, they're not clear at all. Azgeda can't use them. You and Raven did a great job."

Clarke's heart stops and her eyes widen. She looks at her friend and searches for anger, but finds no more than a smirk. "How did you—"

"I'm not stupid, Clarke. You guys have been my best friends for years, I'll be damned if I can't figure something like that out."

Clarke's demeanour turns sheepish. It's not like she regrets doing what she did, but she would have preferred not to go against Octavia like that. "I'm sorry."

The girl waves her off. "Don't be. I needed that," she admits. "Realising that Raven was on your side was a bit of a wake-up call."

"Do the guys know?"

Octavia snorts. "God no. They're too dumb for that."

The two laugh at those words, acknowledging their truth. Bellamy, Monty and Jasper might be intelligent people, but they are not really smart when it comes to things like intuition and reading people. Bellamy and Jasper are worse than Monty, though. Clarke wouldn't be surprised if he finds out eventually.

Octavia places a comforting hand on Clarke's shoulder. "Don't worry. The pictures are shit."

Still, Clarke needs more reassurance than that. She needs to leave it all behind, she cannot have it coming back to bite her. "Are you sure?"

"I can show them to you if you want," the brunette offers.

Clarke nods and Octavia leaves the living room to fetch something. A laptop, Clarke realises, as soon as the brunette comes back with the bulky black machine in hands. Minutes later, the computer is working and Octavia is opening a folder on it with maybe seven pictures.

As they run through them all — six after all, not seven — Clarke's fears are put to rest. The most compromising picture — if at all — is one of a hug, and it screams friendship. Clarke knows this world's heteronormative mentality puts a love stamp on even the tiniest interaction between a man and a woman, but good lord, even the straights can't really be able to see the romance in this. It would be like thinking there's anything but platonic between Bellamy and her. Clarke shivers just imagining it.

"Ew," she lets out, not even noticing she said it out loud.

Octavia turns to her with a quizzically raised eyebrow. "Ew?"

"Can you imagine people seeing this and thinking we're dating?" Clarke explains. "It would be like people thinking that Bellamy is the love of my life."

"Ew!" Octavia whines and shoves Clarke's shoulder in disgust. "That's gross!"

"I know, right?" the blonde laughs. "Ew indeed."

A few moments of silence follow as they review the pictures. There really is nothing there. Nothing at all. Azgeda will be empty-handed.

"So, are you okay with it now?"

"Yeah," Clarke nods. "I am. They really have nothing to work with." Octavia grins, brightly so, and Clarke realises that she has missed seeing this big a smile on her friend's face. "Thanks, O."

It is the single most sincere thing any of them has said to the other in a long time.

 

* * *

 

"I'm so glad you left the dark side of the Force."

"Oh my god Raven, can you not with the nerd talk?"

"It's not nerd anymore, everyone loves the new one. Star Wars is mainstream now."

"We're adults, Raven. Time to leave the Star Wars phase to the kids."

Watching the two bicker is always a delight. Clarke stands in the metaphorical sidelines, sits actually, as Raven and Octavia endlessly annoy one another. They are at a bar, the three of them nursing drinks and sitting at a booth away from prying eyes, celebrating the fact that the team finally agreed to drop the Azgeda case and move on to better things. Clarke leaving that life to start a new path is also the order of the day.

"You're never too old to like Star Wars. Besides, I think you'd find the second trilogy eerily relatable. Second in real world time, mind you," Raven adds as though it is an indispensable detail. "First in the chronology of the story. Boy who feels like he doesn't belong, Messiah complex, rebellious streak, always trying to prove himself to his sort of older brother, fell for the dark side then turned good again, 'you underestimate my power'... You're basically Anakin Skywalker."

"But I want to be the new chick!" Octavia whines.

"Sorry, baby Blake. I already claimed that role. It's too cool for you," Raven shrugs nonchalantly.

Octavia crosses her arms with a pout. "Fine, I'll be the whiny hot guy. Who's Clarke?"

Finding herself pulled back into the conversation, Clarke renews her attention.

"By exclusion of parts, she would be Luke," Raven suggests, but the blonde crinkles her nose.

"Ew."

"We all know she's a Sith though," the brunette adds with a smirk.

"What?!" Clarke exclaims indignantly. Where did Raven get that idea?

"I'm sorry, Griffin, but... With your manipulation skills, you're basically a non-evil, sexy, much, much, much, _much_ younger version of Darth Sidious."

"I'm... oddly okay with that," Clarke concedes. "So how are things with Bell?"

Raven groans and Clarke smirks. It's fun to veer the conversation into uncomfortable territory.

"They're not. He's too busy sulking after losing the Miller-Woods job." Clarke can't say she's sorry. "But we're here to celebrate. No boy talk. Or girl talk," Raven adds in acknowledgement, earning a grateful nod from the blonde. "So drink up, ladies. The night is still young."

"Actually," Clarke starts, and the other two grown exaggeratedly, already aware of what she is going to say, causing her to roll her eyes, "the night is kind of in its middle-age by now, because I have to be up early tomorrow."

"Since when do you wake up early?" Octavia inquires.

"Since Lexa is coming over during the morning," Clarke replies with a smile that was intended to be a self-satisfied smirk, but ended up being a dopey grin. "We're spending the day together."

Since Clarke visited Lexa's home last week, the two have been spending all of their free time at both their places, simply cuddling and kissing and enjoying one another's company. It has been... amazing, to say the least. Arguably the best week of Clarke's life.

"You've been doing a lot of that lately," Octavia remarks. "Lots of dates? Feeling sixteen again?"

"Shut up, O," Clarke chuckles. "You know me. I'll take staying in over going out any time. Lexa is like me, so it's the perfect match," she says dreamily, and braces herself for Raven's inappropriate question.

"Just that? No jumping each other's bones?"

Clarke groans and hides her face in her hands. "We haven't talked about that yet. No time or not being ready, I don't know, it's just— never come up. We always stop before it gets heated, for one reason or another."

"You were right, you're not feeling sixteen again, or you'd have buried your face in her thighs a long time ago", Raven counters, to the blonde's dismay. "I think you're feeling twelve instead."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "When it happens, it will happen naturally. It just... Hasn't happened, you know?"

"You only have three months, Clarke."

She rubs her face with her hands, trying to get a glimpse of clarity amidst all the mess. "I know. Three months. I'll make the most of it and prove to her that we're worth fighting for."

"I don't like that deal of yours," Octavia chimes in, but is silenced by Raven's glare.

"I don't love it either, Octavia. But I'll make do with what I have. And Lexa for three months... It's better than no Lexa at all."

Raven smirks, but there is a great deal of fondness to it. "You're in deep, Griffin."

"I know," Clarke groans. "That's also why I really don't want to do anything wrong, you know? No rushing, no taking too slow. I want us to find the perfect pace."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Just call me when you have sex."

 

* * *

 

"Fuck." It comes out breathless, strenuous, panting. "Fuck, I have to stop, Lexa, I'm sorry, but my arm— my wrist— it's cramping."

Lexa throws her head back, letting out a free, melodious laugh, and Clarke's breath hitches at the sound. God, it's so beautiful. So amazing. Clarke wants to hear it again and again, preferably caused by herself. Her lips settle into a dumb smile.

"Are you tired already, Clarke?" Lexa teases with a raised eyebrow. "Have you never done this before?"

The blonde feels heat rise to her cheeks. "Well— I— of course I have!" she splutters. "It's just—"

"Haven't done it in a while?" Lexa smirks, eyebrow still quirked.

"Well— yeah," Clarke admits shyly.

Lexa laughs again and the blonde is ready to make a complete fool of herself just hear it one more time.

"Tell me Clarke," the brunette smirks but her voice is gentle and cooing. "When was the last time you cooked your own meal."

 _Too long_ , Clarke grumbles to herself. She is not exactly experienced in the art of cooking. "This is baking, Lexa," she replies instead, wooden spoon waving around, like the difference will make her current predicament any less embarrassing.

Lexa smirks, of course she does, and stands up from her spot on Clarke's couch to walk up to the blonde. Arms encircle Clarke's waist from behind and she leans back against Lexa's front, revelling in the touch. The brunette's chin sits on Clarke's shoulder. "I suspect your last time baking was even further in the past than cooking."

"Well," Clarke starts, taking the wooden spoon on her hand to Lexa's . The brunette seems to enjoy the taste. "I have a self-entitled expert here with me now, so why don't you marvel me with your expertise and do this for me?"

A kiss is dropped on her cheek. "I like watching you struggle."

Just like that, all contact is gone and Clarke almost stumbles backward.

"Aren't you supposed to be an adult or something?" she teases, looking over her shoulder at Lexa, who has taken a seat at one of the counter stools. "And the head of some important, very mature company?"

"That is very true, Clarke," Lexa answers seriously, but her eyes are shining with amusement. She stands up and now Clarke is wary. "We are both too old, perhaps, to be eating chocolate cake like children," she continues as she approaches Clarke. "Maybe we should just throw away the contents of that bowl and—"

"No!" Clarke stops Lexa with a scowl and lightly shoves her away. "Don't you dare." The brunette smirks and Clarke knows she won. Lexa goes back to her seat, apparently content to just watch Clarke work. "You know," the blonde speaks up a while later. "If you don't behave, I won't give you cake."

Lexa shrugs, insufferable smirk still in place, knowing fully well that Clarke would never do that to her.  _The little shit._

A little less than an hour later, the two are sitting cross-legged on Clarke's couch, Lexa with a plate and fork and the blonde much more careless in her eating method, half of the cake on the table already gone. Some show is playing on the TV, but the two barely register. They need not even talk to be comfortable around one another, the silence soothing and stripped of uncertainty.

Clarke wonders how they got so domestic over only the span of a few days. To be fair, they are both working class women who have long given up on fighting against the traps of adulthood and 'homebodies'; besides, both are very indoorsy and calm people, much preferring the comfortable quietness of staying in than the restlessness of going out. It only makes sense, then, that the two have fallen so quickly into step with each other's domesticity. Plus, Clarke thinks, they are too old to do the whole nerve-wracking insecure adapting thing. Jumping right in is much more fun and simple.

"I want to take you on a date."

Silence broken, Clarke looks up at Lexa, whose expression is perfectly unreadable but for her eyes, shining with virid fondness, fear and candor. It melts her heart to look into them.

"A date?" Clarke repeats. "Like dinner and a movie, holding hands in public, date?"

"Well. Not exactly like that, but... yes."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

Lexa frowns and tilts her head in that adorable way of hers. "Why would anyone try to harm us, Clarke?"

"No," Clarke chuckles. "I mean... Paparazzi and all, couldn't they see us and out you?"

Lexa shrugs and Clarke realises that she has thought of all possible scenarios. "As long as we do not kiss, I think we will be okay." Clarke's cocked eyebrow makes her continue. "Clarke, you fret over nothing. First of all, I am engaged to Nate. Secondly, as far as pretty much everyone knows, I am perfectly heterosexual. Last but not least, the media are so heteronormative that we could be holding hands and they would still think we are the best of friends."

Clarke assesses the situation. Lexa makes compelling arguments and now that her team aren't on the hunt, she feels much safer. Why not, then? Why not try? It cannot hurt to go on a nice little date with Lexa and feel like a normal couple.

A normal couple. That they cannot be, and Clarke accepts it wholeheartedly, but it would also be nice to get even a taste of that life. A sweet smile makes its way onto Clarke's lips. "I'd love to go on a date with you, Lexa."

Lexa's grin is so wide and so bright that Clarke's heart feels like bursting out of her chest. It is quite possibly the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. Then she notices Lexa's teeth and can't help the surge of laughter that tears up from her chest. The brunette frowns and it only prompts Clarke to laugh harder.

"Clarke, what—"

"You have," Clarke manages to say between laughs, pointing at her own teeth for demonstration. "You have— chocolate."

Lexa brings the tip of her tongue to her teeth, but it only makes it worse. Now all her upper front teeth are smeared with deep brown cream.

"Is it good now?" she questions as she places both their plates on the small table beside the couch.

Clarke laughter finally dies down and she shakes her head, but places her hand atop Lexa's when the brunette goes to check it out manually.

"Wait," she says, voice low and sultry as she leans in. "I can do it better." Lexa gulps, eyes wide, as Clarke lightly sucks on her upper lip first, then runs her tongue over the brunette's teeth. "Hmmm," Clarke practically purrs. "Delicious."

Lexa's whimper is to die for. Clarke meets Lexa's tongue with her own, giving Lexa a taste of the chocolate cream. The brunette hums in appreciation and envelops her lips around Clarke's tongue, gently sucking on it, enjoying whatever chocolate might still there, but when Lexa goes to start the actual kiss, Clarke draws back and away from her lips.

"There," she teases, and places a butterfly kiss on the corner of Lexa's lips. "All done."

" _Clarke_ ," Lexa whines in frustration, which merely elicits a smirk from the blonde.

"We're going on a date soon, Miss Woods," Clarke drawls with an admittedly bad Texas accent. "I ain't letting you taint my purity just yet."

Lexa lets out a very unladylike snort. "Please," she scoffs.

Clarke's smirk only grows wider and she clutches both sides of the collar of Lexa's shirt, laying on her back and bringing the brunette with her, Lexa's body on top of her own. "You'll have to work hard to disgrace this innocent flower."

Lexa's eyebrows raise and her lips brush teasingly against Clarke's. "Oh really?"

"Really."

"Until then though," Lexa starts, lips tracing Clarke's jawline with kisses, "am I allowed to do this?"

Clarke nods very seriously. "Most definitely."

"And this?" Lexa asks, lowering her lips to the blonde's neck and kissing her pulse point. Clarke's nod comes with a swallow. "And this?" She sucks on the spot, drawing a quiet moan from the blonde.

"Yeah," Clarke breathes out raggedly.

Lexa's eyes return to expectant blue and her teeth grab Clarke's lower lip with care. Her eyes widen minutely as if to ask,  _and this?_ Clarke can do nothing but give a minute nod and a short groan. Lexa's tongue slides over the grasped lip, eliciting a whimper from Clarke, but then her teeth release it completely.

"Good to know," Lexa says with a smirk and moves to get off of Clarke's body, but is stopped by fervent hands on her collar and ferociously narrowed blue eyes.

"Don't you dare."

Lexa laughs and just like before, it fills Clarke's heart with adoration. Then green eyes turn serious. "I really am glad that we are going on a date, Clarke."

The blonde smiles sweetly, contentedly, and a happy sigh leaves her nose, the tip of which Lexa kisses right away. "Me too."

Lexa's hands find the hem of Clarke's shirt and thumbs sneak beneath it to brush the milky skin of her hips in soothing circles. "Since I am not allowed to do... certain things," Lexa smirks, "before our date, can I at least still some kisses from you?"

One of Clarke's hands leaves Lexa's collar and two fingertips stroke the tanned skin under Lexa's neck in caress, causing the brunette's eyes to flutter shut, a delighted little smile on pouty lips.

"I guess a few kisses wouldn't hurt."

Lexa's eyes fly open, and Clarke's breath hitches when she sees how dark they are, their beautiful natural colour only an emerald ring now around the fully blown pupils. She realises that Lexa sees the same in her own blue eyes when the brunette is quick to lean back down and claim her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love ending chapters with kisses. Also, honestly, when you're mixing cake dough in a bowl... That shit makes your wrists and arms sore.
> 
> Next chapter: a date ;) I decided to write it in the next chapter instead of this one so I can post both sooner.
> 
> Also... Rating change ;) not gonna say for when though.


	11. "you're in deep, Griffin"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God bless the 100 gag reel for showing me how Lexa would laugh <3 I may or may not have spent an inordinate amount of time watching it. Anyway, in case you need to hear it again: http://100hearteyes.tumblr.com/post/147661853102/debnamcareystuff-elycia-scene-bloopers-in-the
> 
> This is a ridiculously long chapter, thought I'd cut it in two, but it works better as one.
> 
> So... I hope you like this :) sorry for any stupid mistakes

Clarke is not a woman of luxurious tastes or impossibly high standards. Actually, she considers herself to be… mildly demanding? She does have standards, after all. Still, she never expects nor demands anything from anyone and she has long given up the hope that someone will someday make more of an effort than they are expected to and try and win her affections with some remarkable grand gesture.

Imagine her shock, then, when, just as she thought that the (wonderful) night was coming to a close, Lexa surprises her with— _this_.

 

* * *

 

The night began just as one would expect, this being a date prepared by Lexa over the span of two weeks: absolutely endearing. The woman had taken her to a fancy but cosy restaurant, intimate and with dishes that were simply divine but not overpriced. They had no dessert, per Lexa's insistence, and Clarke sort of begrudgingly agreed to it.

Clarke worries that almost a whole month of their stipulated three has gone by. It makes their time together feel more pressing, more scarce, more filled with a sense of emotional urgency. Yet Lexa makes it all so easy. Lexa makes it all so simple.

That’s the thing with Lexa. Clarke doesn’t need perfect or exquisite or grand. All that Clarke needs is Lexa. To be with her is to have a perfect, exquisite, grand time.

(She doesn’t mind being surprised with perfect, exquisite, grand things, though.)

(Like this perfect, exquisite, grand date.)

(But we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.)

So. The dinner. Yes. The dinner.

God. What an amazing dinner.

Lexa was… Lexa. And that’s really the best compliment Clarke can think of. Everything that is not Lexa is just lacking. Lacking what, Clarke has no idea, but it is lacking.

Wait. Clarke is digressing again. Maybe it is the memory of Lexa’s eyes peering into hers, green and exquisite (there it is) and beautiful, Clarke’s own smile propped on her left fist, her eyes undecided on where to settle, whether it should be perfect (there it is again) plump lips or soft, almost unnoticeable freckles or narrow and elegant nose or— well. There are just so many parts of Lexa to look and delight at.

Conversation flowed as easily as always. That’s the thing about them. No need for forced talk; topics flow easily, coming in and out of the bubble they find themselves in seamlessly. There is small talk, superfluous conversation, heavy subjects and silence. Sweet, comfortable, soothing _silence_.

Even though Clarke’s absolute favourite sound is that of Lexa’s voice, followed by her laughter, then the soft little endearing purrs she hums out whenever Clarke caresses the skin under her shin, with her gasps and whimpers and moans taking the fourth place on the list, Clarke adores the silence. The way none of them feel the need to break it with unnecessary remarks, the way they fill it with holding hands and wrestling feet and legs laid on laps and lips pressing kisses on the top of heads and fingers twirling curls and hands rubbing circles on bare skin and noses nuzzling further into shoulders, necks and chests.

Or just, you know, making out. Clarke really enjoys making out with Lexa. More than she has with anyone else, especially when Lexa does that thing that drives her completely crazy where—

Oh my god. Focus, Clarke.

Clarke had just better skip remembering the dinner, otherwise she will keep thinking about the way their fingers remained interlaced the whole time or Lexa (genuinely) laughed at every one of Clarke’s jokes, even the bad ones, or how Lexa’s hair was pushed to one side, silky brown curls over her shoulder and acquiring a golden tinge under the restaurant, or how full pink lips smiled during the whole time or green eyes twinkled with happiness throughout. Or how Lexa even made a few (terrible, yet wonderful) attempts at humour.

So yeah. She will not think about that, otherwise her internal monologue will end up amounting to fifty thousand words instead of a few hundred.

So Lexa. Lexa Lexa Lexa. Ugh. Clarke really loves that woman.

LIKES. Likes. _Likes_ that woman.

Likes.

Likes.

Likes.

_Likes._

(What the hell, Clarke. You’ve known her for less than three months.)

Anyway.

They left the restaurant in cackles and wide smiles, eyes laughing at something Clarke cannot really remember right now, but _swears_ was hilarious. Lexa took Clarke’s hand in hers, looking up at blue eyes to check it was okay. Clarke whispered an apprehensive ‘are you sure?’ but the moment Lexa nodded solemnly and told her not to worry, Clarke relaxed and a delighted smile crept onto her lips.

They walked for what felt like hours, yet tasted like only a few minutes. Lexa pointed at all the trees and flowers and stars, passionate stories on the tip of her tongue about every species and type and name. Not that there are a lot of stars to peer at in New York, what with lights and pollution and skyscrapers, but the few they found all came along with a story.

Then they came back to Lexa’s loft, something Clarke didn’t even discuss, thinking they would end the night there, in the way they have desired to end all their nights for a while now.

Lexa tugged on her hand, leading her into the building, then into the elevator, then along the hall. Lexa only let go to open the door to her loft. Then their hands clasped around each other again, fingers interlacing, and Clarke was surprised when, instead of guiding them to the bedroom, Lexa tugged her up the stairs and up to the roof.

“Uh Lexa?” she asked then, somewhat confused. “Are we not going—“

Lexa chuckled softly. “Not yet, Clarke.”

The rest of the walk was silent. Up the stairs, then a hallway leading to a door, then a door leading to the roof.

And here they are now.

And holy fuck. This is the perfect, exquisite, grand gesture Clarke as always secretly hoped for and almost given hope on. This is what tells her that finding Lexa is the single best fucking thing that has ever happened to her.

 

* * *

 

Clarke is breathless. That is the only word she can think of right now to describe the bi fest and fireworks exploding in her body at this very moment, the bi butterflies and the way her breath escapes her like she just climbed up to the top of a giant-ass fucking mountain.

A fucking bisexual mountain.

And Clarke does _not_ climb mountains if she can avoid it. Actually, Clarke’s dream day is composed of sleeping, eating and lounging (more like loafing and decomposing) on the couch like a three-month old chocolate and Cheetos stain that you can never get rid of and is the undying proof of your goddamn laziness and unwillingness to do anything — anything — that even remotely implies _moving a single fucking muscle_.

Clarke is also not one to swear a lot, but _shit goddamn fuck_ , all words she can remember right now out of the entire English dictionary are expletives.

“Lexa…”

Oh wait. She can say one normal word. But this one comes to her as easily as breathing. Even easier than that, actually, considering her current lung predicament.

Lexa flexes the fingers holding Clarke’s hand bashfully, as though what she has set up for their date isn’t the most amazing thing Clarke has ever been awarded with.

Clarke feels massively undeserving right now.

It's not extravagant. Clarke hates extravagant. It's simple but it clearly took so much effort. It's beautiful, it's just— beautiful.

There is an ice rink — a freaking _ice rink_ — in the middle of the roof, with dozens, maybe even a few hundreds, of candles surrounding it and lighting up the night. A towel is laid out more to the side, red and white squares, just like in the movies, and a large wooden basket sitting in the middle.

Clarke looks to her side. Lexa is disposing of her shoes, so Clarke does the same. Once they are barefoot, Lexa glances sheepishly at her.

"You said you loved ice skating," she says shyly, green eyes expectant, and Clarke melts inside.

"You built this for me?" she asks in disbelief. She can't accept such a gesture from Lexa, getting a brand new ice rink built on the roof just for her, it's not—

"No," Lexa admits with a small smile, and Clarke breathes out with relief. "I already had it. It was... The only thing I had a say in on this loft. The only thing that feels like it is mine."

Clarke squeezes Lexa's hand and kisses her cheek. "Well, it must mean that we're a match made in heaven. Or on a skyscraper roof."

Lexa's smile widens and her sheepishness seeps away. "So... Would you like dessert first, or do you feel like going for a spin?"

Clarke grins and tugs on Lexa's hand, pulling her towards the rink. They are quick to put on the skates and are soon entering the ice.

"I should warn you," Lexa says once Clarke is already skating around, waiting for the brunette to enter, "I am not very good at this."

Clarke raises an enquiring eyebrow, but can't help the chuckle that tumbles from her lips. "Why would you have an ice rink of all things installed on your roof then?"

"I wanted to learn," Lexa replies like it's obvious, and maybe it is.

Clarke skates up to Lexa, stopping just at the edge, her face millimetres away from Lexa, who still hasn't built up the courage to enter. She places a kiss on the tip of Lexa's nose.

"Do you want me to teach you?"

Lexa splutters, but eventually finds the words to answer. "I— That... would be appreciated, yes."

"I love flustered Lexa."

"I am not flustered, Clarke. I am embarrassed that I had the moronic idea to build an ice rink to learn how to skate, yet I cannot even bring myself to step on the ice to begin with."

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Clarke responds with a teasing quirked eyebrow.

"I am not afraid, Clarke."

"Oh ok. Then I guess you can do it on your own," she shrugs.

"No!" Lexa almost yelps. "I mean—" she manages to school her features back to the deadpan expression she loves to wear. "You said you would teach me."

"Yeah, but you kind of have to step in first," the blonde smirks.

"I am very unimpressed with your mockery, Clarke."

"You love it."

Lexa lifts a suitably unimpressed eyebrow. "It is not the product—"

All words die in Lexa's throat as Clarke pulls her unexpectedly and suddenly both women are gliding elegantly around the rink.

Well. Clarke is gliding elegantly. Lexa is haphazardly trying to keep up, tripping over herself repeatedly in a mess of waving arm and feet, halfheartedly begging for Clarke to stop, yet utterly terrified. Still, she stands. That has to be a good sign.

Clarke eventually takes pity on her and skates towards the rail, pulling Lexa along. She doesn't miss the girl's heavy sigh of relief.

"To be honest, I never thought ice skating would be this complicated," Lexa admits, both hands with a vice grip on the rail. "Worrisome lack of foresight on my part."

Clarke chuckles and drops a kiss on the woman's cheek. "You're cute."

"I have tired of arguing that insult you seem to take as a compliment," Lexa admits with an eye roll.

"Or maybe you like it."

"I most certainly do  _not_. I am _not_ cute, Clarke."

"You're arguing it right now."

"Damn it." Lexa takes a second to glare at her, then shrugs, seemingly defeated. "It doesn't sound so insulting coming from you."

Clarke feels like the grin that takes over her face might as well split it in half. She lays her left hand on top of Lexa's right, wrapping her fingers around the tanned palm and coaxing it away from the rail. Lexa eventually budges, apparently deciding to trust Clarke and weaves their fingers together. Clarke sends a bright grin her way, then pushes herself off the rail slowly.

"So," she starts softly, practically a coo. "Ready to start your lesson?"

Lexa looks between the rail and Clarke, then at their entwined hands, and back up at Clarke. A gulp, then a nod, and a second later Clarke is driving them smoothly away from the rail, a smile of sheer happiness on her lips.

Only it doesn't go so well, because not a second later, Lexa is stumbling, and Clarke has to catch her. She does, moving faster than she ever has, grabbing the brunette's forearms and pulling her up. Lexa looks up at her, eyes wide and in a frenzy, but then they soften as Clarke seamlessly leads them back only a step, trapping Lexa between herself and the rail. Clarke's hands travel from Lexa's forearms to her cheeks, then rake softly through chestnut hair, staying there to pull Lexa's head closer. Clarke kisses her slowly, a minuet compared to their usual waltzing and tango, content to just taste the lips of the wonderful woman before her.

Once they pull away, Clarke rests her forehead against Lexa's, and heaves a sigh of relief for having caught the brunette before something horrible happened. Then her brain does a weird thing, where it makes her think that this is the person she would like to catch from falling for the rest of her life.

Which is gay. So very gay.

Yet Clarke's brain has never meant something so truly in her whole life, and now she knows that she has to tell Lexa the truth. For now, however, let them enjoy their happiness.

So steadily, slowly, so as not to catch the other girl off guard, Clarke takes Lexa's hands and pulls them away from the rail once more, wordlessly asking the brunette to take this leap of faith with and in her.

Lexa does.

 

* * *

 

Clarke should have known. She should have known that Lexa would be some kind of child prodigy (minus the child part) at ice skating and soon get better at it than Clarke herself. Yet she doesn't mind? If it were anyone else, Clarke would be really... _salty_ , right now. But with Lexa, there's just a feeling of happiness and wonder and pride.

Lexa is a natural talent.

 _Her Lexa_  (who is not really hers; on paper, Lexa is more Nate's than she will ever be Clarke's, but right now, Lexa is hers and only _hers_ ) is a natural talent.

That is enough to make Clarke thoroughly satisfied.

And they had so much fun. They twirled and glided and laughed and smile, hands constantly locked together and gazes spilling with joy. They tried on some risky moves and thankfully no one was hurt. She did almost cut Lexa's tongue off once, though. A small mishap.

Clarke loves the way Lexa laughs. The way Lexa lets it go at first, then laughs almost silently, wide smile in place, eyes fluttering but not really closing. How she turns her face away, as though her laugh isn't the most brilliant sound in the world. Her smile. Clarke has already mentioned it, but it is worth mentioning again and again and again. That smile can move mountains. It certainly moves Clarke.

"So," Clarke starts, the two of them sitting down on the picnic towel after getting off their skates, "what's next? Hiring a whole hockey team so you can become a professional?"

Lexa cocks a sceptical eyebrow. "I'm a little old to make a profession out of it, Clarke."

"You'd be at the top of your career, Lex. If you start learning now, maybe you'll be at pro level by the time you'd have to retire."

"Seems like a plan."

"There's nothing stopping you now that you're past being terrified of the ice."

"I was not terrified," Lexa counters with an eye roll. "The ice just looked—"

"Terrifying?" Clarke suggests with a smirk.

"—unstable."

Clarke can't hold her laugh anymore and drapes herself over Lexa, holding onto the brunette's shirt as her laughter tumbles onto Lexa's neck. Lexa rolls her eyes repeatedly, but Clarke can see the almost invisible quirk of her lips, telling her that Lexa is actually delighted.

Of course, the laughs turn into kisses and it is only minutes later that the two separate, both their hairs looking a lot more disheveled than before. Lexa sits up and reaches for the basket, taking two dessert plates and matching cutlery out of it.

"The reason why I insisted we do not get dessert at the restaurant is that I made some myself," Lexa explains. "I hope you like it."

Clarke's eyes are probably shining like diamonds right now, but when she sees Lexa take the desserts out, her eyes probably turn into actual supernovas.

Chocolate mousse. Clarke  _loves_ chocolate mousse. And cheesecake. Oh my god. Clarke  _adores_ cheesecake. Then cherries and pineapple and blueberries and strawberries and whipped cream. And more desserts. When did Lexa even have time to make all of that? Clarke isn't sure what she did to deserve this.

Once they're all set and feasting, Lexa picks a strawberry and dips it in whipped cream before taking a bite. "So," she starts, lips even redder than usual due to the strawberry juice, "tell me something about you that I don't know."

Clarke pretends to think, but she knows what she will say. A bit of honesty can't hurt.

"When I first met you, I was trying to seduce Nate."

Lexa smirks in response. "I know that, Clarke." When the blonde goes to inquire how, Lexa beats her to it. "I am not blind."

Clarke is frowning now. "And you're— doesn't it bother you?"

"Not really," Lexa shrugs. "You are with me now, aren't you?"

"Well, he turned out to be gay."

"Yes, not one of your gaydar's best moments," Lexa smirks again. "And we almost kissed three times before you even came to that stunning, groundbreaking realisation."

"I was distracted," Clarke grumbles.

"My point exactly. Even if inadvertently, you chose me, Clarke."

"Well aren't you a bottomless well of ego," Clarke chuckles. "Your turn. Come on."

"Hmm. I discovered my sexuality when I was fifteen," Lexa reveals. "There was this girl in class. Her name was Costia. She was lovely. I would blush every time she would so much as stand near me. And she liked me. The prettiest girl in class liked _me_. I was over the moon," she chuckles.

Clarke feels a big smile begin to grow on her lips and places her hands atop Lexa's, squeezing it lightly. "So what happened then?"

"We dated for three years, then drifted apart when we went to college. It was an amicable break-up, though we lost touch afterwards." Clarke nods in understanding. "Last time I heard she had moved to Canada."

"Did you love her?"

"Very much, yes. But growing up is a valiant opponent to love," Lexa smiles. "Fortunately, I am all grown up now." The two share a meaningful stare, but Lexa breaks contact after some seconds to eat some mousse. “Your turn again, Clarke.”

“I went to prom with my best friend. All the other boys in my school were gross, so I made him be my platonic prom date.”

“Poor guy,” Lexa chuckles. “I bet he had a crush on you.”

Clarke laughs and quirks an eyebrow. “What would make you say that?”

“Everyone has a crush on you, Clarke.”

Clarke thanks her with a quick chaste kiss, together with a short mumbling of ‘flatterer’ against Lexa’s lips. She can feel Lexa smirk against her own.

“Your turn, Woods.”

“My first kiss was with a boy. His name was Ryder. Horrible experience. Gold star lesbian otherwise.”

“My first kiss was with my best friend Raven.”

Lexa cocks an eyebrow, but a smile graces her lips. “Should I be jealous?”

“Not at all,” Clarke laughs. “We realised there were no fireworks at all. Strictly friends.”

Clarke wants to add _you’re one to talk, fiancée_ , but it would be hugely hypocritical, since Clarke herself is not at all one to talk either. She has no right to say it, even if just as well-meaning jest.

“I never actually kissed Nate,” Lexa reveals suddenly, much to Clarke’s surprise and unexpected satisfaction. The idea of Lexa not having shared that intimacy with Nate, as fake a couple as they are, is ridiculously comforting.

“I’ve faked several orgasms.”

Lexa’s eyes widen impossibly. “You haven’t.”

Clarke throws her head back to laugh, but soon locks her gaze with Lexa’s, a smirk adorning her lips. “I have.”

“Would you fake one with me?” Lexa asks, a disconcerting insecurity framing her expression.

“Never,” Clarke replies seriously, earnestly.

Lexa seems to consider her for a moment, eyes searching, and then she nods. “I believe you.” Then after some seconds, “I used to have a dog called Rexa.”

Clarke can’t hold her laughter with this new piece of information. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“Oh yes,” Lexa nodded with a self-deprecating smile. “I named a dog after myself.”

“Why the ‘r’ though?”

“There was this German — or was it Austrian? Well, there was this show with a German shepherd called Rex that worked with the police. Rexa was that same breed of dog, so I found it fitting. A mix of Rex and Lexa,” Lexa shrugs. “It is logical.”

“Sure it is.”

“Don’t mock me, Clarke.”

The blonde holds her hands up in surrender. “Not mocking, just finding it absolutely adorable.”

Lexa groans and covers her face with one hand. “There you are with those scathing insults again.”

“Speaking of,” Clarke starts, but then backtracks. “Well, not really. It has nothing to do with this. But,” she starts again, realising she was beginning to ramble, “I’d like to try something.”

Lexa quirks an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“Let’s do a try-out first, then we can try this somewhere else.”

The other eyebrow comes up to join the first in Lexa’s forehead. “You have officially piqued my interest.”

Clarke smirks. “Good.”

“Is it something kinky, Clarke?”

“Just a bit,” she winks. “Close your eyes.”

Lexa regards her with suspicion, but then abides by Clarke’s request, closing her eyes.

Clarke contemplates all the desserts on the towel, deciding which to choose first. She goes for the lemon pie. She takes a spoonful of it and revels in the wonderful flavour. Lexa really is a great cook.

With the taste of it still in her lips, she kisses Lexa, immediately eliciting a moan from the other woman.

“What is it Lexa?” she asks between soft kisses.

Lexa runs her tongue over Clarke’s lips, then Clarke’s tongue when the former part, and hums in approval. “Lemon pie.”

Clarke giggles into pouty lips. “Well done, babe.”

Lexa seems to like the term of endearment, for it spurs her on. “Another one,” she mumbles between one kiss and another, and Clarke can’t stifle an amused chuckle.

“Your wish is my command.”

She takes a bite of the orange cake and basks in the deliciousness of it. God, Lexa really is a great baker.

Clarke’s lips return to her lover’s and the two kiss some more before Lexa hums, eyes still closed, “Orange cake.”

“Good job.”

“It’s easy when you kiss me like that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” They part and Clarke takes note of the way Lexa’s eyes flutter open, hooded till the last minute, lips slightly parted, pupils completely blown. “I have a pretty good idea where it could take you right now.” Lexa’s eyebrows rise in question. “Let’s gather everything and take it somewhere else, shall we?”

Clarke needn’t say where to know that Lexa gets it. The brunette nods profusely and starts to return everything to the basket. The candles will eventually burn out and the wind is merely a light breeze, so there is no danger of the towel flying away. They can just leave the roof without looking back.

The walk to the bedroom is quick and silent, as both women know that the moment they open their mouths open will be to kiss each other.

Lexa opens the door to let Clarke in and then enters the room too, closing the door behind them. Clarke takes the basket from Lexa’s hands and sets in on the floor, by the foot of the bed, then starts taking every dessert out of it, placing them in a row on the floor beside the bed, away from Lexa’s prying eyes. She lays a spoon and a fork on the bedside table.

Once she’s done setting the scene, Clarke turns to Lexa and takes the angular, beautiful face in her hands. “I’m so into you,” she whispers, lips almost touching.

Lexa smirks. “I noticed.”

“I’m serious, Lexa.”

The brunette gulps and her expression now matches Clarke’s seriousness. Clarke can feel Lexa’s hot breath on her own lips and it’s doing amazing, terrible things to her sanity and self-control.

“I am very much into you too, Clarke.”

And that is all she needs. Clarke crashes their lips together with a need she has not found in herself before. Lexa responds in kind, gripping her waist and bringing their bodies flush against one another. Clarke’s fingers tangle in Lexa’s hair and she pulls the brunette backwards towards the bed.

Lexa gasps when the back of her knees hit the bed and Clarke takes advantage of the short pause to attach her lips to the brunette’s neck. She trails kisses below the chiselled jawline, from behind her earlobe to her chin, then down the front of the long neck that is all hers.

Clarke then sucks on the Lexa’s pulse point, drawing a long moan out of the brunette’s full, parted lips, then proceeds to kiss, bite and soothe with her tongue down the tanned neck again, till her teeth are grazing over prominent collarbones, while her hands come up to Lexa’s chest and shoulders to rid the brunette of her clothes.

“Lie down,” Clarke husks once Lexa is only in her bra and jeans.

Lexa does just so, lying on her back and scooting to the middle of the bed, knees bent over the edge of the bed, and Clarke’s breath hitches at the sight.

She takes several moments to appreciate her lover’s upper body and she feels the arousal grow tenfold between her legs. Lexa’s abs are _just_ right, not ripped, but perfectly noticeable and taut on her abdomen. Her breasts are… Well, they just _are_. Clarke can’t even find the words to describe them. Neither big, like her own, nor small, flawlessly round and tanned and faultlessly framed by a sexy lace black bra. Beautiful, riveting, delectable.

Delectable. Clarke resists the urge to get rid of the offending garment covering Lexa’s chest, and sits on her lap instead, cradling her hips.

“So,” she starts, her voice husky as she likes it, for she knows it turns Lexa on even more, “there’s only one rule to this game.”

Lexa is lying on the bed, arms spread, chest rising and falling with arousal, completely pliant to Clarke’s needs. Most entrancing of all, though, is her gaze, green eyes taking Clarke in with utter adoration and wonder.

“What is it, Clarke?”

Clarke takes a moment to recover from the huskiness of Lexa’s voice and the overall gorgeousness of the scene below and before her. “You have close your eyes guess what you taste.”

Lexa nods slowly, probably too aroused for words, closing her eyes, and Clarke bends over her to grab the spoon and fork, making sure to kiss her on the way to the bedside table and back. Then she leans over the edge of the bed and takes a spoonful of the first item of the row.

When she goes to lay the contents of the spoon on Lexa’s forehead, she hears a tsk from below her. Lexa’s smirk, even with green eyes shut, is all but insufferable.

“What?”

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Clarke.”

Clarke raises a brow at the allegation. “You can’t even see me.”

“This is my one rule, Clarke,” Lexa replies solemnly.

Clarke huffs, but she is amused and entirely willing to take off her clothes for Lexa.

She asks Lexa to hold the spoon (“Careful, Lexa!” “My eyes are closed, Clarke. I’m doing my best.” “Well clearly, your ‘best’ is not enough.” “Strip for me, Clarke.”), then takes off her top, which leaves her only in her bra and skirt.

“I’m going to take off my skirt too,” she tells Lexa, whose eyes are still religiously closed. “And then I’ll take off your pants.”

Lexa nods with a gulp and lets Clarke do her work, lifting her hips off the bed (and surprisingly not spilling the contents of the spoon) to aid Clarke in taking her pants off.

Once they are both in their underwear, skin-to-skin and lace-to-lace, every sensation is heightened. The mere movement of her hips against Lexa’s causes Clarke’s centre to rub on Lexa’s mound and both women gasp.

Clarke takes the spoon from Lexa. “I’m going to start now,” she says softly and smoothly, as though guiding Lexa through the process. “Are you ready?” Lexa nods. “Let’s go then.”

She carefully places the contents of the spoon on Lexa’s forehead, causing it to wrinkle adorably.

“What are you doing, Clarke?”

“Just trust me, Lexa. I swear it’s not as gross as you’re thinking.”

“’Not as’? So it is gross?”

Clarke swats her playfully in the arm. “Shut up.”

And Lexa does. Clarke gets another spoonful of another dessert and this time, places the sample on Lexa’s chin.

“You have to stay put, babe.”

Another spoonful, the hollow of Lexa’s neck. The fork now, in the middle of her chest. Spoonful, the valley of her breasts. Another two, of the same thing, each on top of Lexa’s breasts, the part not covered by the bra. A forkful on the sternum, then just above the navel, and finally a spoonful just over the waistband of Lexa’s panties.

Clarke travels lower over Lexa’s body to kneel between her legs. Then she places two other spoonful’s, one on each thigh.

“Ready, set, go,” she says playfully, then returns the cutlery to the bedside table, stopping for a second or two to admire her work.

Delicious.

Clarke leans over Lexa’s body and licks from the brunette’s chin up to her full lips, basking in the bit of dessert she just licked off Lexa’s skin, then presses her lips to Lexa’s, who releases a whimper right away.

They kiss slowly, voluptuously, and Lexa hums at the flavour in Clarke’s tongue. “Raspberry parfait.”

Clarke chuckles at the answer. “I believe you when you say that’s the name of the dessert.”

“Next,” Lexa teases.

Clarke smirks and brings her lips to press to the brunette’s forehead, absorbing the dessert sample on it. Then she goes back to Lexa’s lips, kissing her more intensely this time, until the brunette whispers, “Milk bavarois.”

“Hmm, well done babe,” Clarke congratulates with a short peck to Lexa’s lips, then a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

She lowers herself a bit and presses open-mouthed kisses down Lexa’s neck, with sensuous suckles that are certain to leave a mark. When she gets to the jugular notch, she licks the dessert of but doesn’t stop there, licking all the way up Lexa’s neck, then her chin, and her lips. Lexa shudders the whole way. This time, Clarke runs her tongue along Lexa’s full lips, but there is no kiss. Always perceptive, Lexa understands Clarke’s intention and licks her own lips, analysing the flavour.

“Whipped cream,” she guesses, and Clarke rewards her with a kiss.

“Next,” the blonde says this time.

Clarke uses her teeth to grab the small piece of cake off the middle of Lexa’s chest and, not bringing it in her mouth, brushes it against Lexa’s lips. The brunette gets the message and opens her mouth, letting Clarke place the cake between her teeth.

Lexa eats it, clearly enjoying the flavour, then answers, “Orange cake.”

This time, Clarke’s reward is a brush of her fingers against Lexa’s clothed centre, eliciting a deep gasp from the brunette. “Fuck, Clarke…”

Clarke smirks and returns to work. She licks the cream off the top of Lexa’s breasts, biting down on the flesh lightly, and Lexa’s hips buckle.

Clarke chuckles and graces Lexa’s lips with a kiss, shuddering when Lexa sucks on her tongue and moans in pleasure at the sensation.

“Tiramisu,” Lexa husks into her mouth. Clarke smiles and rewards her by pressing a circle around her clit, over the lace panties. Lexa’s hips buck again, desperate for more contact. Clarke realises she has to speed up.

“This one’s going to be a bit harder,” Clarke warns.

She grabs the piece of dessert off the valley of Lexa’s breasts, taking time to brush her nose against one of the boobs, then her teeth pick the piece of fruit off the sternum. She mixes the two flavours in her mouth, knowing they’re different enough to be told apart, and travels back up to steal a kiss from Lexa.

“Caramel pudding and… pineapple?” Lexa guesses, eyebrows adorably scrunched together.

“That’s right, Lex. I think this calls for a special kind of reward.” Lexa’s breath hitches as Clarke’s fingers hook around the waistband of her panties, giving it a light pull. “Can I?”

Lexa nods. “Yes.”

Clarke smiles sweetly, giving her a second kiss, and starts sliding the panties down Lexa’s legs, being careful not to ruin her work on her thighs. Lexa lifts her hips off the bed to help and, once the garment is around her ankles, she kicks it away. Clarke cups her lover’s mound with her hand, making Lexa shudder, but makes no move to touch her core.

“You’re so beautiful,” Clarke breathes out, fingertips weightlessly trailing down Lexa’s abdomen, feeling the very light dips and hillocks of her muscles. She takes a few more moments to reverently take in just how exquisite her love is, then smirks. “Let’s keep going.”

Clarke kisses down Lexa’s torso tenderly, taking her sweet time. Chest, the valley of her breasts, her sternum, down to her navel. Once there, Clarke picks up the piece of cake just above Lexa’s navel with her teeth and travels back up to give it to the brunette.

This time, Lexa chuckles. “Easy. Chocolate cake.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow, even though Lexa can’t see it. “Easy, huh? Let’s see about that, Jamie Oliver.”

On a whim, she plants an open-mouthed kiss on each of Lexa’s thighs, sucking the dessert off the skin. She returns to Lexa’s lips and kisses her with as much fire as she can bring herself to.

Lexa’s hands fly to her waist, bringing her closer, and the two lose themselves in each other for several moments. When they finally need to part for air, Clarke lifts an eyebrow.

“So?”

Lexa’s brow furrows. “Lemon pie, I think.”

“And…?”

This time, the brunette’s eyes widen. “There’s more?” Clarke nods with a self-satisfied smirk. “It’s too hard, Clarke,” Lexa whines. “They’re too similar!”

Clarke shrugs nonchalantly and starts to get off of Lexa. “Well, I guess no sex for you, then…”

“No!” Lexa is quick to grab her hand, keeping her from leaving. Clarke’s smirk only widens. “Maybe… Mango?” Her eyes lighten up with realisation. “Mango mousse!”

Clarke’s smirk morphs into a delighted grin. “Nice one, Lexa.”

“You make it easy, Clarke.”

“You’re repeating compliments.”

“They are genuine.”

“Should I be worried that you’re running out of new ones?”

“I will never run out of new compliments for you, Clarke.”

Clarke chuckles and places a peck on Lexa’s lips. “Charmer.”

As she goes to draw away, Lexa brings a hand to the back of her neck and pulls her in for more. This one is slower, shorter, but oh so full of affection.

“Are we going to finish this or what?” Lexa teases. “I believe there is only one left.”

“Actually, there’s two.”

Lexa quirks an eyebrow. “What have you up your sleeve, Clarke Griffin?”

“Wait and find out, Lexa Woods,” the blonde teases back with a smirk, and starts her slow descend over Lexa’s body.

Once her face is over Lexa’s mound, she looks up with a hooded gaze and is glad to see Lexa’s eyes still obediently closed. She runs a finger over the skin, collecting half of the cream there, then brings it to her lips, moaning at the flavour.

“Hmm… My favourite.”

Clarke can see Lexa squirm and collects the other half with her finger, this time bringing it to Lexa’s lips. Lexa licks and sucks at it in delight.

“Chocolate mousse,” she rasps.

“Good girl,” Clarke congratulates. “That’s one.”

As a reward, Clarke runs her other finger through Lexa’s folds. Lexa gasps loudly and Clarke cannot keep her own moan to herself. So wet. So irresistibly wet.

“Clarke,” Lexa breathes out raggedly, and the blonde can’t control her own breathing at the silky huskiness of Lexa’s voice.

Clarke takes her own panties off with one hand and sits down, cradling Lexa’s hips. She then pulls herself up to kiss Lexa deeply, basking in the sensation of skin against skin and lips sliding against each other and tongues rolling and curling and wrapping around one another.

Eventually they have to part for oxygen, and when they do, Clarke brings her finger to Lexa’s mouth, which the brunette eagerly takes.

“That’s the last one.” As soon as she realises what it is, Lexa moans and her hips buck. “It’s you.” Clarke kisses her lover again, tasting her in those full lips and feeling herself reeling. “You taste amazing, Lex.”

Lexa finally opens her eyes and Clarke almost loses her cool when she sees just how dark they are, the green she loves so much merely an outer ring to the deep dusk in the blown pupils. Seeing those eyes, drowning in the pitch-blackness of them, Clarke realises she wants to give Lexa everything.

“You are so beautiful,” she repeats the compliment, unsure of what else to say, because it just is the absolute truth. “Inside and out.”

Lexa shakes her head and Clarke’s heart breaks a little. “I wish, Clarke,” Lexa says with a despondent smile. “Though it warms my heart that you think so.”

“I _know_ so,” Clarke insists seriously. She wants Lexa to know how beautiful she is.

Lexa’s smile turns rueful. “I’ll believe in it just for tonight.”

Clarke is content to take this small victory. “I’ll make it my life’s mission to make you believe in it every night, for the rest of your life.”

Lexa caresses Clarke’s cheek with the back of her fingers, then tucks a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I wish we had that long.”

“Maybe we will,” Clarke says hopefully and kisses Lexa softly. “But for now I’m happy to have you just for tonight.”

Lexa blinks and Clarke is shocked to see tears forming in her eyes. “I wish I could give you everything, Clarke. I wish I was brave enough.”

“No,” Clarke whispers and cups Lexa’s face with her hands, thumbs brushing over tan cheeks. “I’m the real coward here.”

Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke’s neck and brings her in for a passionate hug. Clarke returns it immediately, circling Lexa’s shoulders with her arms, under armpits, over shoulder blades and hands grasping at Lexa’s shoulders from behind, holding on for dear life, naked bodies flush together and faces buried in necks for long minutes.

The silence is broken only by Lexa’s fragile, teary whisper, “Let me show you how I feel.”

With that, Lexa wraps her legs around Clarke’s waist and skilfully turns them around, so that now it’s Lexa lying on top of Clarke. The blonde’s chest heaves as she regards the amazing woman above her, and her beauty once again takes her breath away.

She has no time to dwell on it, however, for a second later Lexa’s lips are latching onto her neck and Clarke is releasing a loud, long moan. Lexa is a truly great kisser. For all her fear of stepping any lines, she wholly makes up with a fiery passion when she knows what she is allowed to do. And she’s allowed to do a _lot_ of things right now.

Most of all, though, Lexa is gentle. Oh so gentle. Her touch is that of a feather, her kisses the soft, sensuous blossom of a flower that lingers. Her teeth take Clarke’s skin so delicately that it arouses but never really hurts, and her tongue is a soothing wet cloth on bruised skin.

Lexa’s lips trail down Clarke’s neck, to her collarbone, peppering kisses and little love bites along its full length. She pecks down Clarke’s chest, taking her time to enjoy every inch of bare skin, and buries kisses in the valley of Clarke’s covered breasts. She looks up, wide eyes searching for permission, and Clarke not only gives it to her, but also helps her by taking off her bra herself. Lexa gives her that lopsided smile that she adores and only then lowers her gaze to Clarke’s chest.

Clarke doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath. Lexa’s eyes are wider and darker than ever, lips parted and cheeks flushed as she stares at the blonde’s breasts, and Clarke has never felt so wanted in her whole life.

“You’re… You’re gorgeous, Clarke,” Lexa mumbles, hands running tenderly up and down the blonde’s sides, making Clarke’s heart beat faster. “Stunning, beautiful, exquisite. So many words and none will ever be enough to describe you.”

“I don’t need any words when I have you looking at me like that.”

That is enough for Lexa to begin creating her masterpiece on Clarke’s body. She plants a kiss on the top of each of Clarke’s breasts, and proceeds to envelop one of the hardened pink buds with her lips. Clarke moans at the contact and her hands fly to Lexa’s back, lightly raking her nails down the expanse of it.

It motivates Lexa, because not a second later the brunette is sucking on Clarke’s nipple and her tongue lapping over and circling it, drawing a panoply of aroused sounds from Clarke. Lexa switches to the other breast, giving it as much attention as she did the other one, going even further by gently taking the nipple between her teeth and pulling, which causes Clarke to gasp and arch her back, pushing her chest against her lover’s face, for she has to have more of this drug that makes her see stars. Lexa smirks and drops a feathery, doting kiss on each nipple, before descending over Clarke’s body, a journey during which Lexa makes sure to explore every millimetre of naked flesh, in a spout of reverence and adoration Clarke has never been the subject before.

Finally Lexa reaches the waistband of Clarke’s panties, the last barrier between them and utter bliss. She looks up at Clarke for the second time that night and for the second time that night as well, Clarke says yes.

Lexa makes quick work of the lace panties and soon she’s gasping — again — at what she sees. Clarke knows what Lexa sees, at least partly. Short and curly blonde pubic hair and a very, _very_ wet centre. The rest, though, is up to her imagination and Lexa’s wide, dark eyes and dry swallows.

“Fuck Clarke,” Lexa mutters. “You’re so wet.”

Even though she already knows that, Clarke can’t help the rush of pink to her cheeks. “It’s all for you, babe.”

Lexa swallows again and lowers herself, dropping a kiss to each side of her lover’s hipbone in the process, and her head ends up between Clarke’s thighs, right where the blonde likes it.

“Can I?” she asks tentatively, and Clarke is so touched by her thoughtfulness, concern and respect.

“Please, Lexa,” is all that Clarke can bring herself to say, or rather breathe out.

Lexa wastes no time. Right after Clarke gives her consent, she feels a tongue run through her folds, up to her clit, then circle the bud and flick over it teasingly. Clarke releases a loud moan, head falling back and mouth hanging open, her eyes shut with unbridled pleasure. This new sensation, like no other she has ever experienced, feels like a gate that opens and lets all the water come rushing in, flooding her whole body from head to toe and causing all kinds of pains in the best places.

Lexa is spurred on by Clarke’s reaction and her tongue starts lapping repeatedly through her folds, exploring every corner, tracing complex patterns around her clit but only occasionally touching it. Soon Clarke is panting and her hands are tangled in chestnut curls, tugging them and begging them, imploring, pleading, that Lexa turn her attention to where she needs it most.

She can obviously feel Lexa’s smirk against her core, especially when the brunette places a soft kiss to it that sends a delicious shiver down Clarke’s spine. Lexa is teasing her, Clarke knows it, so she tugs the brunette up by her hair till they come face to face.

“Lexa,” she says threateningly, despite knowing the threat in her voice is not threatening at all. “If you don’t fuck me now, I won’t return the favour later.”

Lexa nods dumbly and is quick to return to her previous spot between Clarke’s legs. Now instead of her tongue, Lexa uses her thumb. With the pad of it flat over Clarke’s clit, Lexa rubs lightly, drawing soft circles on it, sometimes around it, all eliciting various moans and whimpers from the blonde.

Lexa’s other hand, the left, grabs onto a butt cheek, kneading the milky skin there, then goes around Clarke’s right thigh and presses down on her lower belly to keep Clarke’s hips from jumping off the bed.

Lexa’s tongue laps at her folds again, but this time it only repeats the motion once. The tip starts prodding Clarke’s centre and teases the entrance, pushing only slightly in.

“Fuck Lexa, please,” Clarke rasps, but Lexa does not obey.

Instead, to Clarke’s dismay, she pulls her tongue out and repeats the teasing a number of times, the simple movement nonetheless enough to bring Clarke closer to the peak, as she feels herself getting wetter by the second.

“Lexa,” she warns again, and this time the brunette nods.

To Clarke’s surprise and momentary frustration, Lexa pulls away from her centre altogether. She’s about to protest when a pair of lips latches onto her clit and a finger suddenly slips inside her. Instead, she cries out, Lexa’s name both an acknowledgement for what she already has and a plea for more.

Lexa moves her finger slowly, feeling around Clarke’s walls and getting to know them, while her mouth plays with Clarke’s clit.

“Yes, baby, right there,” Clarke breathes out and tugs at Lexa’s wild curls, all too far above in heaven to even remember she’s tied down to the earth.

Lexa adds a finger and Clarke feels herself wonderfully filled, the spongy surface of her walls clenching around Lexa’s fingers, which pump in and out of her delightfully, each thrust a singular work of art. Meanwhile, Lexa’s tongue toys with her clit, drawing from Clarke several sighs and whispers of whimpers and praise.

Yet as much as she absolutely loves everything that Lexa is doing to her, Clarke needs not more, but something else — she needs Lexa, she needs to feel Lexa and to touch her and to be buried in this grave of rampant pleasure by the all-giving weight of her. So she tugs at Lexa’s hair once more, this time pulling the woman up to meet her eyes. Lexa gets the message and hoists herself up over Clarke’s body, till their gazes are locked and their noses are brushing against each other and their haggard breaths are one.

Lexa continues her work, now with an arm stretched down between their bodies, and makes up for the lack of her lips around Clarke’s clit with her thumb. Still, Clarke needs to feel her lover even closer, so she pulls at the front of Lexa’s bra and lets it go, letting it lightly slap against the brunette’s chest. “Off.”

Lexa nods messily and Clarke makes quick work of the offending garment, but then they are faced with the heart-breaking reality that there is a strap around Lexa’s right side too, so she will have to slip her fingers out of Clarke to be able to fully take her bra off.

Clarke is still pondering on their predicament when Lexa’s head lowers to her neck and her lips start kissing and suckling her possessiveness into the skin there, making Clarke gasp. The moment that happens, Lexa pulls her fingers out momentarily and Clarke whimpers.

“You asked for this, Clarke,” Lexa whispers breathlessly against her neck, and Clarke can taste the smirk around those words.

Just as soon as she pulled her fingers out, however, Lexa wiggles out of the bra and both her fingers mercilessly return to where they belong and Clarke releases a wholly satisfied moan.

Now she can feel everything, the slap of hand against thighs, their lips grazing and occasionally capturing each other in sloppy kisses, their breasts brushing together and creating a wonderful friction that Clarke can never get tired of.

“Another one,” Clarke husks and Lexa complies, adding a third finger to the mix, and Clarke feels her walls stretch pleasantly to accommodate.

Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa’s neck, while the brunette’s free arm, her left, encircles the blonde’s shoulder from down up. Clarke feels her toppling towards the edge, over the precipice, as her whimpers beg all but to be allowed to fall, no ropes tying her to the thrill-less safety of the hill above.

Only natural, then, that after a couple of boundless thrusts and peeking down at the abyss, Clarke tumbles — and she falls. It’s a free, exhilarating drop, down an infinite cataract of bliss, her body shaking and her jaw hanging open, all cries of joy and none of fear or danger. Then she hits the ground below and it embraces her, firm but gentle arms enveloping her and making the thud feel more like a feather touching the earth.

Lexa has stopped, all energies focused on holding Clarke, strongly yet tenderly, like both their lives depend on it. Maybe they do.

They stay like that for several minutes, simply holding each other after bliss, Lexa’s face buried in her neck, Clarke’s eyes shut and at peace. It feels like she is holding Lexa as much as Lexa is holding her, and Clarke wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her fingers come up to brush Lexa’s hair softly and the brunette’s nose nuzzles further into her neck, prompting a content smile from Clarke. She remembers then that Lexa is due being cherished too.

“Lexa, baby,” she whispers, not at all surprised at her hoarse voice, fingers maintaining their motion along soft chestnut curls. “Let me take care of you.”

Lexa’s face comes up from Clarke’s neck and there is an understanding between them, like no words are needed ever again. Still, Clarke is not sure she would survive a lifetime of not being able to hear Lexa’s voice.

Lexa nods, striking green eyes peering into Clarke’s, and her nose brushes against Clarke’s cheek, then Clarke’s lips, then her nose, and then the two women are kissing like they have all the time of the world. They don’t. But they can pretend they do, just for tonight.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this got kind of emotional towards the end lol
> 
> Funny thing: the love thing was actually my mistake. I accidentally wrote love instead of like, which is what I was going to write. But then I thought if I unconsciously made that mistake, then it had to mean something for the character as well. I’m not making any sense, am I?
> 
> Next chapter will be up in a week. I'm back to regular updates :) Oh! THE chapter (the one you're all afraid of) is halfway written. But relax, we still have a handful more before that :p
> 
> Anyway, give me all your comments and kudos, please massage my already overinflated ego.


	12. "I’m so into you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I'm back to smaller chapters! Please forgive any glaring mistakes, wrote it on my phone from start to finish and auto correct is a bitch. I'll try to proofread it tomorrow morning.
> 
> EDIT: It's been proofread. It's safe to read now.
> 
> And look who's updating weekly now ;)
> 
> Hope you like it! Thought I'd give you some domestic Clexa before *really* moving the story forward again.
> 
> Also, you know how stupidly hard it was to get a quote from the last chapter to be the title of this one?

"My voicemail has been acting up."

Clarke raises her head from the pillow at the words. She's lying face down on Lexa's bed, sheets covering her only up to the waist, both having just woken up. Well. Lexa woke up a few minutes ago and is sitting up against the headboard, Clarke's left arm slung over her naked waist. Clarke, on the other hand, is resisting the inevitability of opening her eyes and being one step closer to leaving this wonderful bed.

It's a life-changing bed. The fact that she gets to share it with Lexa is a significant plus.

"What did you say babe?"

Lexa's attention leaves the phone she was scowling at and she looks down at Clarke, with a cherry smile on top.

"Hello there sleepy head," she greets, and Clarke immediately feels a dopey grin take over her lips.

Lexa's hand finds her bare back and rubs a couple of wide soothing circles on it. Clarke looks up at her lover and takes in her beautiful naked form. It has been two weeks since they had sex for the first time and they have repeated it plenty, yet Lexa's body never ceases to leave her in awe.

"Sleepy alright," she mumbled, letting her face fall on the pillow.

A few seconds pass before Lexa repeats her earlier statement. "I said my voicemail has been acting up."

Oh, that's it. "Get a new phone," Clarke jokes, but then whines. "It's way too early for this, Lexa."

Clarke can feel Lexa's smirk from down here. "Too early for what, Clarke?"

Clarke raises the arm that is not draped over Lexa's waist and waves it around randomly. "This. Talking. Consciousness. Life."

"You sound like a teenager, Clarke."

"You sound like an old fart, Lexa."

Suddenly she feels a weight on her ass and lips on the lower back of her neck. Nails rake down her back and her breath hitches.

"Still too early, Clarke?"

Damn it, Lexa.

"No," Clarke gasps out as Lexa kisses down her back. "Not at all." Lexa nibbles on each of her shoulder blades and Clarke lets out a shuddering breath. "You really like being on top, don't you?"

"No," Lexa answers in a sultry voice as her teeth close around Clarke's earlobe. "I really like giving you pleasure."

Clarke can't help the swelling feeling in her chest. She turns around, her face now only inches away from Lexa's.

"That's good, 'cause you know something I really like?"

Lexa leaves one last kiss to the underside of her jaw. "What?"

Without any warning, Clarke pulls Lexa down onto her and flips them around, till she's the one straddling Lexa's lap.

She quirks a playful eyebrow and sends Lexa a smirk. "Being on top."

 

* * *

 

When Clarke leaves the shower, Lexa is already out of bed, presumably making breakfast. Looking at the strewn bedsheets, Clarke heaves a contented sigh. It has been a month and a half since their deal and Lexa may or may not have her doubts, but Clarke is absolutely certain that she wants to stick with Lexa.

She puts on Lexa's college hoodie, the extra large one that sits like a skirt on her, and heads to the kitchen.

Her suspicions were right, Lexa is making breakfast and it smells absolutely great. It looks like she's just finished, but what traps Clarke is the image of her girlfriend (or lover or whatever term suits them best) standing by the kitchen island, her back to Clarke, wearing the tantalising amount of zero articles of clothing.

Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa's waist and rests her chin on Lexa's tanned back, where a tattoo that she has grown incredibly fond of snakes its way downwards, stooping only at the small of her back.

She takes a deep breath, basking in Lexa's heavenly scent, and releases it in the form of a happy sigh. "I love it when you walk around the house naked."

Lexa, who has remained thoroughly unfazed, only chuckles. "Good morning to you too, Clarke."

"Didn't you hear all my good morning's back there? I thought I'd been very welcoming of the new day."

"Oh you were."

Clarke raises her head to kiss Lexa's cheek, then presses a soft kiss to the expanse of her tanned back, before resting her cheek between the brunette's shoulder blades.

"I wish we were both naked."

Lexa turns around in her arms and is now facing Clarke. There is a marvelous smirk adorning her lips. "We could both be naked under than hoodie."

Clarke can feel her own smile grow immensely. "I love the way you think."

With that, she raises the hem of the hoodie in order to bring it over Lexa's head. There is some adjustment to be made (like Lexa having to lower herself), but in the end, she is successfully in it. Now all they have to do is fit both their heads through the collar.

"Come on Lexa, just aim and get back up."

"Clarke, I can't—" the brunette's voice comes adorably muffled from inside the hoodie. "Ohhh wait, I like it right here."

"What? What do you mea—"

Clarke lets out a little yelp when Lexa's lips attach to one of her nipples. Her arms come up to circle the pregnant hoodie right away, bringing Lexa even closer. She feels hands on her hips, soft fingers kneading the skin there. Clarke moans when Lexa transfers her ministrations to the other nipple.

Just as Clarke is starting to work up a frenzy, Lexa pulls away completely.

"Lexa?" When there is no answer, she lifts the hem of the hoodie to reveal a smirking Lexa. Said smirk only grows when Clarke glares at her. "Why did you stop?"

Lexa adopts a completely innocent expression. "I am showing you Polis and Command today, remember?"

"That's in four hours, Lexa."

The brunette shrugs. "One can never be too early." She presses a soft kiss to Clarke's lips and turns to the kitchen island. "Breakfast?"

"Of course."

As always, Lexa's cooking is divine. The pancakes are amazing, the (home-made) syrup is amazing, everything is amazing. It would be unfair, how amazing it all is, if Clarke didn't love it.

They make small talk, comfortable conversation, and eat their breakfast calmly. It makes Clarke feel like they're a married couple and surprisingly, she's not averse to the idea at all. She pushes those thoughts away nonetheless, aware that they are poisonous little seeds.

She knows that Lexa feels strongly about her, yet is still not entirely convinced. Clarke guesses she simply has to be even more convincing.

She knows that's not the problem, though. They are still a month and a half away from the deadline and she knows that Lexa will want to have absolutely no doubt that this is the one true path for Clarke and herself. Only then will Lexa even consider not going ahead with her initial plan of marrying Nate and merging the companies. Lexa has often made it perfectly clear that her number one duty is to the company, so she will also only consider a second option once she has found a viable alternative.

Those are way too many variables and maybes and if's, and it will likely end up in heartbreak, but Clarke is still absolutely willing to try.

Then there is the matter of her own secret, of course, which Clarke is yet to tell Lexa. She wants to. She really wants to. The problem is that with every passing day, the danger of Lexa's reaction being bad is greater, and Clarke wants to find the right moment, but no moment had been such thus far. So... yes. Clarke really should tell Lexa about it, but her courage diminishes each day. Maybe she should tell Lexa when their time is up and everything is said and done. That's not such a bad idea. Even though it's clearly not the best she could have, it's quite likely the best she _has_ had.

"…to shower."

Lexa's voice snaps her out of her reverie. She blinks and shakes her head, her mind returning to the moment, and her eyes narrow in confusion.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

Lexa smiles sweetly at her. "Can you get the papers please? I'm going to shower."

Clarke nods right away and stands up. "Oh yeah. Sure."

Lexa gives her a peck on the lips and leaves the kitchen. Clarke heads to the entrance and opens the door, to find the usual stack of newspapers and magazines outside. She leans down to grab it and takes it to the living room, where she sits on the couch and starts reading through the papers first, then the magazines.

Politics: Trump, Hillary, Bernie, Trump. Economy: stock market, Greece, Venezuela, brexit, sterlingpound. Social: Cuba, refugees, black lives matter, Orlando. Sports: Copa America, doping, Cavaliers, Kevin Durant. Lifestyle; Taylor Swift, Kim Kardashian, Lexa Woods, Blake Lively, George Cloo—

Wait.

Lexa Woods?

Clarke stares at the article, a two-page spread, about Lexa Woods and her new best friend. She reads about how "sources close to the young CEO" (as always, made up information, and Clarke knows this because she's worked closely with these 'journalists' and seen how they work) think it's good that Lexa is widening her horizons and hanging out with people outside of her engagement, because being with Nathan all the time could lead to them getting tired of each other, and "we wouldn't want that for our favourite corporate couple, would we?"

So it's good that Lexa Woods has a new "bestie" and who knows, maybe this "mysterious blonde hottie is an eligible bachelorette herself."

It's such a load of absolute bullshit and couple mumbo-jumbo, written by and/or to people with clearly no clue of how couples work and survive, that it sickens Clarke to the core. Not to mention that it baffles her how people can look at pictures of her and Lexa holding hands and think they are "besties." What a fucked up, heteronormative world they live in.

She feels a weight plop down on the couch beside her and looks to her left to see Lexa, now fully dressed and looking beautiful as always. She kisses the brunette's lips in greeting and slaps the magazine on her thighs.

"Look, we're on People magazine," Clarke says, and Lexa takes the rolled-up piece of informational trash from Clarke's hand cautiously, setting it aside. "And we're BFF's."

Lexa's eyebrows scrunch together adorably in confusion. "BFF's?"

"Best friends forever," Clarke explains. "Though in our case, it should probably mean best fucks forever."

Lexa smirks at the made up acronym. "Good to know."

Clarke scoots closer to Lexa, pressing her side against the brunette's and laying her head on Lexa's shoulder. "So what's happening with your voicemail?"

Lexa seems pleasantly surprised that Clarke remembered. Point Griffin.

"It's been failing to deliver some messages. Anya sent me one last night and I didn't get it."

"Maybe you should have that looked at." Lexa hums in agreement as her fingers start brushing Clarke's hair. "By the way, I'm yet to meet Anya."

"Which is why you are visiting the companies today," Lexa reminds her. "So you can meet everyone."

"Feels like meeting the family."

"It is, in a way."

Clarke lifts her head off Lexa's shoulder to drop a kiss to tanned cheeks. "I can't wait."

As she returns her head to its second favourite spot, Lexa's shoulder (the first being between Lexa's legs), Lexa turns on the TV.

Clarke groans when she realises what Lexa is going to put on. "Please not Grace & Frankie again."

"Hush, Clarke. I know you like it."

Clarke turns her head slightly to give a playful bite to Lexa's shoulder "Yeah but I have to pretend I don't just to annoy you. Besides, we've been watching that for days."

"But Clarke, we're almost done," Lexa pouts, and Clarke knows she just won't be able to say no. "And it's my two favourite episodes now."

"Fine," Clarke huffs. "But then we watch something I want."

Lexa smiles sweetly, gratefully, and Clarke has no idea what good she has done to deserve this woman. "Of course, Clarke."

An hour later, they're both trying to decide whether to laugh or cry.

"I loved the voicemail scene."

Clarke looks up at Lexa with a smirk. "Do you have some voicemail kink?"

"Don't kink shame, Clarke," the brunette answers very seriously, only the tiny hint of a smile belying her words.

Silence falls upon them once more, broken only after some minutes, after Clarke has snuggled even closer to her lover.

"Poor Robert," Lexa sighs. "He was cheated on, but he still loves Sol so much."

"I don't think I'd be able to forgive that," Clarke admits.

"Maybe not that type of betrayal," Lexa agrees. "But but there are many kinds, many of them forgivable and forgettable."

"Betrayals are not forgivable and forgettable, Lexa."

"Some are. Many, actually. Many are not personal, one just has to do what one has to do."

"Things are never as simple as that."

"Believe me Clarke, what I say is anything but simple. Forgiving a betrayal is very hard, but sometimes there is no other way. I have often been betrayed by people I thought I could trust, but had to move on from that, as I knew they did it for those they cared about, and it was not personal."

Clarke ponders Lexa's words, and somehow they do make sense, and maybe there is hope for them. Yet a thread of thought shatters that completely.

"What if it _is_ personal?" she asks in a small voice, as afraid to ask as she is to hear the answer.

Lexa breathes in pensively, brow slightly furrowed, and she looks confused, as though she cannot fathom why Clarke would ask such a question. Lexa's breath comes out in a small sigh. "I would like to think that those can eventually be forgiven too."

 

* * *

 

"When I started Polis, all I really wanted was to share my designs with the world. It still is, to be perfectly honest. My passion is designing. The corporate part is... A bonus."

Lexa is giving her a tour of the company, the one she started with a single notebook and is now a skyscraper towering over the city. Clarke feels her heart soar with pride.

"I decided to found Command when a multi-business company, Mount Weather, started threatening Polis. We assessed the market, found the companies that were also being threatened by MW and would benefit from a coalition, and formed the society. At first, some were reluctant to be part of Command and relinquish part of their power to a single governing unit, but we managed to convince them eventually."

"Wow," Clarke breathes out, as always in awe of the woman beside her. "So did you manage to eliminate the threat?"

"Yes," Lexa answers shortly, and Clarke understands that it's a story for another time. "Mount Weather has been successfully… incapacitated."

Clarke raises an enquiring eyebrow. "You mean like terminated?"

This time, Lexa smirks. "That would be a more suiting word, yes."

"You're like a corporate badass."

Lexa's laughter filling the halls is absolutely worth it. "How old are you, Clarke?"

"Never too old to be a cliché and have a thing for bad girls and badasses."

Two men walk by then and Lexa leans in to speak into Clarke's ear. "I can assure you I'm no bad girl," she whispers, sending a shiver down Clarke's spine.

Feeling a sudden urge, Clarke grabs Lexa's hands and leads them towards an empty room, closing the door behind them.

"That's good," she husks, clutching the collar of Lexa's shirt and pinning her to the door, "because I'm not a cliché either."

She crashes her lips against Lexa's and takes everything she yearns for from the woman she adores.

"So you're not into badasses?" Lexa asks between kisses.

"Who isn't into badasses, Lexa?" Clarke answers and shifts her kisses to the brunette's neck. "But all I really am," she sucks on Lexa's pulse point, luring a low moan, then softly kisses her lips, "is into you."

Lexa smiles and rests her forehead against Clarke's. "Then I guess you won't be bothered if I cut this short and resume our tour."

The most annoyance Clarke can come up with is a relenting sigh. "Fine, let's go then."

She gives one last kiss to Lexa's lips and heads out the room, ahead of the brunette. She wishes she could take Lexa's hand and lace their fingers. Alas, Lexa is the head of this company and regardless of the two of them being just friends or not, it would look extremely unprofessional for her to walk around hand in hand with someone else.

After some minutes, Lexa leads them into some office and Clarke realises that it's none other than Lexa's. If not noticeable for the personalised but ever professional decoration and the fact that Lexa takes off her blazer and lays it on the back of the desk chair when they enter, it would certainly be for the golden plate in which "Lexa Woods, CEO" is written in golden cursive.

Lexa is important. Not that Clarke didn't know that already, but seeing the sacred nameplate always lends a sense of sudden reality to it.

It makes Clarke proud.

Lexa presses the intercom button and when a 'hello Miss Woods' sounds from it, she replies, "Hello Gustus, please send Anya, Indra and Titus to my office."

"Right away, boss."

Lexa sits down in her chair, while Clarke takes one of the two in front of the desk, facing Lexa and playing with the corner of one of the documents on the desk.

"Meeting the family is kind of terrifying."

Lexa smiles, that lopsided little thing Clarke adores, and lays a hand atop hers. Clarke feels immediately more at ease.

"You will do great, Clarke."

Clarke smiles thankfully, but decides to steer the conversation in another direction. "You should watch 'You've Got Mail' and 'Something's Gotta Give'. There's a lot of voicemail scenes there."

The grin Lexa gives her makes her mentally fist pump for the small jest. "I will make sure to check those two out."

"You could watch them with me."

"As long as they're not like The Notebook," Lexa shrugs. "That movie is terrible."

Clarke gasps and points an accusing finger at the CEO. "You cried."

"Of course, I have no issue admitting that. But those movies are _made_ to make people cry. The dialogue, music, editing, everything is done with that single purpose in mind. Not crying would be a challenge."

"But— you cried— I— damn you, Lexa," Clarke groans, giving up.

There is a squeeze to her hand and when Clarke looks up, Lexa is staring at her with the most sincere glint in her eyes. "I might not have enjoyed the movie, but I enjoyed watching it with you."

Before Clarke can answer, however, the door slams open and a tall woman, with long dirty blonde hair, cheekbones sharp as knives, thin lips, and the most aggressive brown eyes Clarke has ever seen, enters the room, stops in the middle of it and crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"You called."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Clarke meets the "family". Indra is deep, Titus is ugh and Anya is... Anya. Also something important happens.
> 
> And something important. Whatever I say Lexa is thinking or feeling, it's what Clarke *thinks* she's thinking or feeling. We're only in Clarke's head after all. So for example, any thoughts regarding Lexa's stance on their three-month trial, it's Clarke's point of view. It might be true, but it also might not be.


	13. "best friends forever"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small recap of the last few chapters:
> 
> Clarke and Lexa agreed to a "test drive" of their relationship: three months till the wedding, then Lexa will have to decide whether she wants to be with Clarke or play it safe and stay with Nate (therefore preventing any risks for her company). They have been blissfully happy, but some ghosts linger: Clarke's secret and the fact that there is an end date for their happiness. An article came out with pictures of them, calling them best friends, which grosses Clarke out. Lexa has been having trouble with her voicemail. Clarke is meeting the 'family'. Queue chapter 13.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm really sorry for the huge delay. Work and exhaustion and a HUGE block are the reasons. Sometimes I'm just too tired to even touch my computer after work (I've barely been on it for the past two months) and when I block, I just can't write through it. There's simply no words at all. This chapter was hard to write for a number of reasons. It's hard to go back to story when I've created this soft fluffy little bubble where Clexa has been living for the past few chapters. But I can tell you I am 1000000% going to finish this. It will be easier now my internship has ended (*cries*) and I'm unemployed again (*cries harder*). I have more time to write, so I promise regular updates are forthcoming.
> 
> I was going to make this a longer chapter, but I've been sick for the past three days, unable to write, and I knew if I tried to write the whole longer chapter, it would take way too long and you guys have already waited over two months for this, so I just decided find a way to cut it in half and post two shorter ones, and finally, FINALLY update again. The next one *should* be posted next week, depending on how the whole flu thing progresses. I wish I was a robot sometimes... Actually, isn't it a weird coincidence that I get sick the moment my internship ends? It's like all the exhaustion has finally caught up with me.
> 
> I'm not very happy with it, especially because it was meant to be part of a longer chapter, not a stand-alone one, but well. Anyway: happy reading!

Clarke has seen Anya before. It was at the hospital, when Lexa was recovering from her concussion. Yet nothing could have prepared her for this.

Anya is... power, although not as much as Lexa. Clarke's lover is as powerful as she is kind and gentle and tender. Lexa is loving. Anya is just... scary. She clearly has little to no patience for people in general and seems prone to violence and spewing insults. But maybe that's just Clarke overreacting to this second first impression.

Lexa clears her throat, cutting the shocked atmosphere of the office in half, and both Clarke and Anya turn to face her. Lexa's expression is stoic, serious, almost business-like. The Lexa that Clarke knows between the sheets may be tender and loving, but CEO Lexa exudes power, ruthlessness and control. She has seen glimpses of this unreadable Lexa before, she was almost overwhelming when they first met; but here, in her kingdom, Lexa is all CEO and almost no Lexa at all.

"Anya," Lexa starts, her voice welcoming but slightly formal. She gestures for Anya to take the other chair across from her, the one next to Clarke. Anya scoffs and stays where she is. "This is Clarke Griffin. Clarke, this is Anya Odon, my best friend."

For the first time since entering the room, Anya acknowledges Clarke's presence. Her gaze finally meets the blonde, travelling up and down in clear judgement, eyebrow raising sceptically as brown eyes settle on Clarke's face. Clarke stretches out her hand in greeting, but Anya simply looks at it, then levels Clarke with a stare that clearly says 'not happening'. Clarke awkwardly clears her throat and retracts her hand hesitantly, thoroughly overwhelmed and unsure of what to think of this person that is obviously so important to Lexa but doesn't entirely fit Clake's idea of Lexa herself.

"So?" she hears Lexa say, prompting them to say something.

Anya's lips curl into a smirk and she eyes Clarke one last time, before turning to Lexa and saying, "I hate her. She'll do."

 _What?_ Clarke's eyes widen at Lexa, brows furled in demand of an answer. Lexa's eyes close in annoyance and Clarke can see her take in a deep breath, nostrils flaring, clenched jaw.

"Anya," she says quietly, calmly, yet it fills the whole room. When Anya goes to protest, Lexa raises both her hands in a curling motion, leaving no room for discussion. "Leave us."

Anya huffs but does as told, yet another demonstration of the power Lexa holds over everyone in this building. Moments later, after the door has closed behind the woman, Clarke turns back to the CEO.

"What the hell, Lexa?" she asks harshly. "I'll 'do'? What does that mean?"

Lexa's first response is a sigh. "Anya is stubbornly convinced, even though I have denied it more than enough times, that I am just using you for... comfort before the wedding."

Clarke's brow furrows. "Why would you use me for that?"

This time, Lexa rolls her eyes. "Like you've never used someone before." Just as Clarke is about to — indignantly, it should be added — complain, Lexa quickly adds, "We all do it, Clarke. We all have done it at some point. Using people, for whatever purpose, is part of human nature."

"Not  _my_  nature," Clarke grumbles, crossing her arms.

"Look, doing this — being a leader," Lexa explains, her open and stiff hands going up and down, just like when she was telling Clarke that sometimes one has to take slightly unethical paths. Clarke realises that this is the demeanour Lexa adopts when explaining something that might not be so easily accepted. The tougher words, the harder choices. "It requires using people all the time. Being a boss is basically using people to do something for you, by paying them a laughable salary every month. If they believe in you, they will do anything. All you have to say is, 'go do this for me'."

"A whole speech to prove what point exactly?"

"I have never used women for comfort, but I  _have_  used people before, in less than ideal ways. I love Polis and I love everyone that works for it, and using people is sometimes what you have to do to help those you love. I might be powerful and wise and strong and fairly compassionate, but I am not in a pedestal, Clarke. So please don't put me in one. And please don't act like using people is some monstrosity unless you have the moral high ground to say so."

Clarke opens her mouth to protest, but closes it right after. If anything, she has the moral low ground on this. If anyone should be ashamed of themselves for using people, that someone should be her. Groaning, she lays her arms on Lexa's desk and buries her face in them. "I'm a hypocrite."

A hand comes to lay on top of her own, however, and when she looks up, forest green eyes shine down at her from across the desk. "You are my hypocrite," Lexa offers tenderly. "And maybe sometimes I am... a bit of a stickler for my own rules. My own ways. But I think— I think we make each other better."

Clarke nods with a small smile, starting to play with Lexa's fingers. "We make each other stronger."

It's Lexa's turn to nod and smile, that cute lopsided grin Clarke adores. "We do." They enjoy several moments of silence, simply toying with each other's fingers and basking in soft, sweet smiles. "Can I keep the family coming?" Lexa asks after a while, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"Are they as intense as Anya?" Clarke jests.

"Definitely," Lexa nods seriously. "But in a different way. I think you will like Indra."

"I liked Anya already," Clarke reassures her. "In a sort of terrified of her kind of way... But I can see why she's your friend. I think."

Lexa nods thankfully and Clarke knows she said something right. And she did like Anya. She is clearly protective of Lexa, and Clarke can see why the woman would think a girl for mere comfort would be better if easy to hate; no strings attached and whatnot. After all, Lexa is getting married in just a little over a month. The thought terrifies her.

At that moment, there is a knock on the door and Lexa tell whoever is outside to come in. The door opens and in come two people, a man and a woman, both fierce and serious looking. The woman has beautiful dark skin and short curly hair, as well as perfect stance. Clarke recognises her as Indra, Lexa's right-hand woman. The man is bald and pale, caved eyes tired and stern, both hands clasped together in front of his body, just like a priest. Clarke has no idea who he is, and that is a new position she unpleasantly finds herself in.

Lexa stands up and walks around the desk, which Clarke takes as a sign to stand up as well. The brunette approaches the two newcomers, her posture absolutely regal, and places a soothing hand on the small of Clarke's back.

"Indra, Titus", she starts. "This is Clarke Griffin, who I have told you so much about. Clarke, meet Indra Tombom and Titus Du."

Lexa's voice is tinged with pride and Clarke feels her smile grow. It's amazing to feel that someone you care about so much takes pride in the simple fact that they are in a relationship with you. However, Clarke's spirits lower immediately when her suspicions are confirmed: she has no idea who this Titus fellow is. Monty never mentioned this man in his reports about Lexa and Clarke is pretty sure that she has never seen him before.

Still, her good manners immediately kick back in and she extends a hand to Indra and Titus. "It is an honour to meet you both," she says with respect rather than a wide smile, as these people seem to value seriousness over cheerfulness. "Lexa tells me much about you."

Indra takes her hand and shakes it with a nod. Titus, however, looks between Clarke and Lexa twice before finally relenting and shaking the blonde's hand.

"Clarke is a doctor," Lexa tells them, and Clarke can hear the pride in her voice. "She is also an artist," Lexa adds then, turning to Clarke with a quirked eyebrow, "but I have not yet had the pleasure to see her work."

 _Oh, low blow_ , Clarke thinks, and not a moment passes before two other sets of eyebrows are raised at her. "They're not good enough," she fumbles with her words, suddenly inept at what she does best. "Most of them unfinished."

"I'm sure they're brilliant, Clarke." Lexa says it with so much feeling, so much sincerity, that Clarke finds herself believing words not her own, about art only ever her eyes have seen. Then Lexa catches her gaze and green eyes say 'just like you', though full lips remain sealed.

When Titus interrupts their moment, it feels like several days later.

"I wish to speak to the Commander," he says, all too formal, all too superior, then looks pointedly at Clarke. "Alone."

Clarke is befuddled, to say the least. This man, whom Clarke has never heard of before, seems to think, or at least act like, he owns Lexa. Like he is somehow entitled to her. He sounds almost like a child whose favourite toy is being taken away by the annoying baby brother.

She looks back at Lexa and sees green eyes asking for permission. Clarke nods and a hand wraps around hers right away, giving it a gentle squeeze, an 'I'll come get you in a minute'.

Clarke and Indra exit the room, leaving Lexa and Titus alone to talk. Once outside, in what seems like the waiting room for Lexa's office, Clarke waits for Indra to take a seat and then sits down beside her. The first thing that registers in her mind is that these chairs are more comfortable than anything Clarke has in her house. And she's well-off, so this is just a whole other level.

The second thing is the stance that Indra adopts. Quiet, serious, regal, frowning, almost like a warrior. A terrifying one, at that. Clarke Griffin is afraid of very few things, and Indra Tombom is one of them. The silence is... uncomfortable, at best. Clarke feels like she's being scrutinised, even of Indra's eyes are firmly set on the door in front of them.

"Lexa is a prodigy." It takes Clarke a few seconds to realise that the remark came from the woman sitting next to her. She turns to Indra, whose gaze hasn't moved from the door. "She is a once-in-a-million designer and an exceptional business woman. She is as talented as she is ruthless."

"The clothes she designs are something else," Clarke agrees, unsure if she should talk at all.

Indra finally peels her eyes off of the door and sets them on Clarke, pensively. "Yes." A beat, two, three. "But above all, she is a great boss," her gaze returns to the door, "and an even better person."

Oh.

_Oh._

This is  _the talk_.

Indra is giving her  _the talk_.

Oh boy.

If Clarke was terrified of the woman before, now she is positively shitting her pants.

"I won't hurt her," she blurts out firmly, even as she remembers  _that_ , and an inner voice whispers,  _you_ _will_. She shuts it out quickly though, this is not the time. She  _will_ sort  _that_ out.

Indra looks at her again, as though searching her soul, and nods solemnly, gaze returning to the door.

"Lexa understands that success demands work as well as talent. She has never been one to sit on her innate skills and wait for happiness to fall from the sky."

Clarke knows this. Lexa is a marvel. Lexa is strong, hardworking, determined, ruthless, tenacious, resilient. A goddess of success, built brick over brick by her own hands. Yet she's also profoundly human, and that imperfection, the flaws as much as the qualities, the moments of weakness, her almost paradoxical gentleness and care — that's what engages Clarke so. Everything about Lexa is so idiosyncratic, antithetical and tenderly imperfect, that Clarke can't help but— well. Love her, really.

Clarke loves Lexa.

The realisation isn't so much a shock, as the world subtly adjusting so that everything makes sense. It's a calm sense of peace and self-assurance that washes over her, a certainty that makes her warm. It has been a slow, but surely-building truth, blossoming into final, yet all but logical, awareness. She loves Lexa. The pieces have fallen into place.

The sun doesn't shine any brighter than yesterday, when Clarke didn't know what she does now. The sky is just as blue, the grass is just as green. The earth maintains its prehistorical rhythm, the seas strike the shore with the same untameable strength, her heart beats just as fast or slow as a mere minute ago.

But now; now Clarke knows the reason for all of that. She knows why the sun shines and the sky is blue and the grass is green. She knows why the earth rounds the sun and why the seas invade the land. She knows her heart beats because Lexa exists. All of those things are true, and will continue being so even beyond Clarke's passing day, because of Lexa.

Clarke doubts that the world would be the same if Lexa didn't exist. It's just not possible to imagine the sun wanting to shine for an earth without that woman.

The door opens at that moment, pulling Clarke from her thoughts. Titus and Lexa step into the small waiting room, both clearly tense and in a bad mood. Titus keeps a steady gaze on Lexa, whereas the woman's eyes quickly search for Clarke. They shine when they find their target, the tiniest of smiles tugging at one of the corners of Lexa's lips. The sun has got nothing on her beauty.

It's Titus who first breaks the silence, taking a towering step towards Clarke. "I think you should leave now, Miss Griffin. The Commander has a busy day ahead of her."

"The  _Commander_ ," Lexa intervenes with annoyance, hands now clasped behind her back, "can speak for herself."

He whirls around in bewilderment. "Commander, you can't possibly—"

"I can do as I please, Titus," Lexa cuts him off again, her tone leaving no room for further discussion. "Clarke is my guest today. She will have my undivided attention." With that, she steps towards Clarke, eyes soft and expression open. "Clarke," she extends a hand, gesturing to the exit, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Shall we?"

"Of course," Clarke nods, before turning to Indra. "It was really nice meeting you."

The woman nods in reciprocation and Clarke turns on her heels, leaving the room with Lexa in tow. She can feel Titus seething behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha see what I did there with happiness falling from the sky?
> 
> One thing I love about Lexa (on the show and outside of it) is how she respectfully calls Clarke out on her bullshit (and hypocrisy). She loves Clarke and admires her, but also cares to make her see when she's wrong. In a reasonable way (unlike some other idiots, who love blaming Clarke for the simple act of breathing). Lexa is always honest, doesn't gloss over anything, but she's also respectful, considerate and reasonable. I tried to translate it into this story as well.
> 
> You're always welcome to make suggestions and theories, I love reading them, it will be fun to see how it all turns out in the end ;)
> 
> Also, leave all your comments below, I love love LOVE reading them, they're absolutely my fuel. I'm sorry this chapter wasn't as long as I wanted it to be and (apparently) doesn't progress the story further, but you'll see later how important it is.
> 
> And Clarke loves Lexa?!


	14. "I hate her"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this turned out much longer than I expected. Clarke takes the hot seat.
> 
> This one starts the day after chapter 13. Notice that we open with an alternative POV. Even though I strongly dislike the character in question, I felt that I had to do him *some* justice by including a bit of his backstory. But don't worry, we go quickly back to Clarke ;) don't skip his part though, it's really important.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Smut alert!

//

Life is not going well for Bellamy Blake.

From the moment he was born, he was the underdog. A mother who loved him but could barely provide for him, an unknown father. Having his options limited at birth. Then his sister came along, and life suddenly turned a lot brighter. To say that Octavia is Bellamy's whole world would be an understatement. Octavia is his life. He had to be a father and often a mother for his baby sister, to make up for the absence of a father and the fact that their mother worked so hard to keep them alive, that she often missed entire days or even weeks of their lives.

Then puberty hit and the tables we turned. Bellamy was no longer an underdog; he became a top dog, the alpha male. Girls swooned at his passage and boys wanted to be like him. He did more than a few things he is not exactly proud of, like having threesomes with minors when he was already well of age, or hustling here and there so he could provide for his family. Even so, he quickly climbed from the bottom to the top of the chain.

Yet life has never been easy. Octavia discovered boys and freedom and decided she was an independent woman. Their mother died. None of their fathers ever cared to meet or even reach them. They had no family left. So he grew up demanding more and more of life, because life owed him better luck than what he'd had. Life owed him a better hand.

It still does.

Raven broke off their friends with benefits arrangement; Bellamy doesn't understand why. The sex was great, no strings attached, no feelings, and a deep knowledge of each other's bodies. "I can't keep doing this," is all that she said, "I can't keep waiting for the spotlight to fall on me when it's so clearly somewhere else." What the hell does that even mean? Bellamy believes he's entitled to a better explanation.

The worst part of the recent months, however, isn't even Raven. It's Clarke. Clarke, who was their best asset, and has now left them to be with big-shot CEO Lexa Woods, who is probably just using her for some fun. Clarke, without whom they have been unable to find or even complete new jobs, because none of them are cut for her role, and they will probably have to close shop.

Clarke, who left them — left _him_ — without so much of a decent reason, after everything they have been through, and now it's up to Bellamy to pick up the pieces. And for what? For Lexa? A rich, privileged businesswoman who is, might he add, in a fake relationship with a gay man and will very likely just use Clarke up and throw her away when she's had her fun? Clarke deserves better.

"You ready, Bell?"

Octavia's voice snaps Bellamy out of his thoughts and he stares at the door before him. A door inside the Azgeda Inc building, the company with which it all began. Bellamy blames them for this. Actually, Bellamy blames all those companies, all of Command, for everything that has happened since they were first hired. He blames Lexa above all. She stole Clarke from them. From—

"Bell!"

He startles this time, then a smile replaces his wide eyes at the sight of a grumpy Octavia. "Sorry, O," he chuckles, then places a hand on the girl's shoulders. "I'm ready."

Octavia pushes the door and walks in, barely waiting for Bellamy to enter the room too. Octavia was against meeting with Azgeda again, but Bellamy managed to convince her, since it might not be about Command again — his sister threw him a pointed look at that — and whatever it is, regardless of their final answer, they can't just refuse to hear them out. The simple truth is that they need the money.

The sight before them surprises Bellamy. The person sitting on the far side of the long table at the center of the dimly lit conference room is not Nia Queen, the CEO of Azgeda, or Roan, her son, or even Echo, the woman they first met with. Instead, there is a bald man with empty blue eyes, a solemn air to him and hands clasped on the table, a series of documents spread in front of him in a semi-circle. Were the man wearing a robe, Bellamy would take him for a priest.

The man gestures at two chairs on the opposite end from his at the table, next to Bellamy and Octavia. The siblings sit down, exchanging looks at the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room, the brother at the head of the table and the sister on his right. The man clears his throat and both pairs of eyes turn to him.

"My name is Titus Du. I am here on behalf of Nia Queen, to offer you a deal." An ominous feeling settles into the room. "You will be given all the necessary resources, nothing will be amiss. I expect one million dollars for each member of your team will be enough? If not, we can negotiate a better deal."

Bellamy almost chokes upon hearing the value. Nonetheless, the suspicious feeling hasn't left him; on the contrary, he feels it rising with each passing second. "That's all very appealing," he says, trying to tone down the hostility, "but you still haven't told us what you want from us."

The man fixes him with an unwavering stare. "I want you to prove that the CEO of Polis and Command is in an adulterous relationship with a woman."

Silence.

Revealing Lexa is in a relationship with Clarke. That would humiliate the businesswoman and drive a wedge between the two, meaning that maybe, finally, Clarke would return to them. To the team. She would forget all that nonsense about leaving them and becoming a doctor. She would come back to them, apologise for leaving them alone and for leaving  _him_ to pick up the pieces. All would be right in the world again.

Still. Bellamy cannot bring himself to humiliate Clarke like that. He might... dislike Lexa, yet he respects Clarke too much to hurt her like that. Even if it would benefit her in the long run.

But it _would_ benefit Clarke in the long run, now that Bellamy thinks of it. Clarke might not appreciate it now, but later, she would. She would thank them for opening her eyes before it was too late. She would thank them for getting rid of Lexa for her and making her return to where she really belongs, which is their company. She doesn't really want to become a doctor, does she? That was her second option, what she chose after she decided to be with Lexa. Her dream was to do what they were doing. So really, Lexa kept her from following her dream. Lexa kept Clarke from them. Lexa kept the company from having new jobs. Thinking about it, Lexa is the cause for all their problems. And if he could just manage to expose them, separate them, without exposing  _Clarke_ , the it would—

The sound of a chair falling back starts Bellamy back to reality. The first thing he sees is Octavia leaping onto the table and charging for Titus. Before she has time to do something reckless, though, Bellamy wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her back, managing to calm her down.

"What were you thinking?!" he hisses, but she ignores him, shifting her gaze to Titus instead.

"We are _not_ outing someone and we are _not_ betraying our friend," she states, no room for discussion. Bellamy forgets his previous thoughts as soon as he hears Octavia's reasoning. "That's not what we do. So shove your million dollars up your ass and don't try to reach us again."

With that, she lets go of her brother's hold and storms out of the room. Bellamy turns to Titus, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowed.

"You heard her," he grits out, much in the same tone his sister did, a finger pointed at the man. "It's a no."

 

* * *

 

When Clarke wakes up, she is lying on her stomach, half on top of Lexa, an arm slung over the brunette’s abdomen and her cheek resting on a tanned shoulder. Lexa is on her back, holding a book with her right hand, and her left elbow sat on Clarke’s pillow, fingers lightly combing blonde tresses. Clarke looks up and sees green eyes leave the book and look down at her in adoration.

“Good morning,” Lexa whispers, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“Mhmm,” is all Clarke can muster, pushing herself up just enough to greet her lover with a chaste kiss.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” Clarke kisses the top of a breast and relishes the way Lexa’s breath hitches. “I’m ready to take on the world.”

Lexa hums. “Do you have plans for today?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I’m enrolling in a medicine reentry program.”

Lexa sets the book aside and gives Clarke her undivided attention. “Tell me more about that.”

“It takes six months,” Clarke explains, her thumb and index fingers starting to idly play with a beautiful nipple. “I could just ask for a job at the hospital, since there’s no requisites for reentry in New York and my mom can get me a job pretty much everywhere, but I wanted to do this.” She stops playing with the nipple when she realises it’s now pert and places a gentle, final kiss on the small bud. “I never actually practised medicine beyond residency and I want to show people that I can make a name for myself, not just live off my mother’s laurels. I think this program will help me a lot.”

“I think it’s wonderful that you have the humility to recognise that you may need to learn again before reentering such a demanding profession,” Lexa states softly, reverently even. “I’m sure you will be remarkable.”

Clarke smiles brightly and kisses those wonderful pouty lips. “Thank you.”

Clarke snuggles up closer to Lexa, her nose nuzzling the brunette’s neck, breathing her in, that flowery, sweet scent of hers that Clarke has fallen in love with. A few minutes pass, both of them just basking in the silent company of one another.

“Can we talk about yesterday?” Lexa’s tone is determined yet tentative, as though afraid of what’s to come.

“I wanted to talk about it last night, but  _someone_ wanted a sexton instead," Clarke reminds her, with a perched eyebrow.

"I never asked for a sexathon, Clarke."

"Maybe not, but I remember vividly that when I was about to speak, you said, 'hush Clarke, I just want to taste you'," she teases.

Lexa smirks shyly. "You taste better than chocolate," she whispers, and Clarke just cannot resist pushing herself up again and kissing those pouty lips. "And I seem to remember that you particularly liked orgasm number five."

"Oh you mean the," she makes a scissoring gesture with her hand and fingers and Lexa's smirk widens into a full smile.

"That one exactly."

Clarke presses their lips together once more and the peck becomes a full kiss, tongues wrapping around each other and teeth tugging at lips sensually. Clarke loves kissing Lexa, each time more than the previous, and she thanks every deity there may or may not be for the chance to do it. Her lips drop to Lexa's chin, then trace the contour of her jaw, small nips eliciting gasps every now and then. "Fuck Clarke..." Her lips wrap around the lobe of a cute little ear, sucking on it, while her teeth pull at it gently, which makes her lover moan, before a hand comes up to cup a perfect boob, thumb flicking over the erect nipple. She kisses down the side of Lexa's neck, then brushes her lips all the way up to the underside of a chiselled jaw, before starting her way down Lexa's throat. Clarke shivers at the reverberations caused by Lexa's silent moans, sultry and sinful and all around beautiful. There is nothing she loves more than touching Lexa, with her fingers, her lips, feeling tanned silk underneath her own skin, breasts pressed, thigh between legs, face buried in a long neck and inhaling Lexa's perfume. Clarke's tongue swirls inside the hollow of the tanned neck, and then licks a path along Lexa's clavicle, not without a light bite at the end of it.

Clarke's hands travel down Lexa's sides, feeling every inch of skin, the bumps and hollows of her ribs, the salience of her hipbones, the imperfections of her thighs. They go up again, and now her nails are raking down her back, tracing that delicious curve between the small of it and Lexa's ass, reimagining the patterns of Lexa's tattoo; Clarke's lips running the same path along her lover's front. Finally her hands reach the underside of Lexa's knees and push them onto her elbows, and Clarke finally looks at her own personal haven, glistening, wet, soft, inviting, swollen four-petalled lips aching for her kiss. She gives them what they need; a soft press of her lips against the beautiful centre, before closing them around Lexa's clit and sucking it into her mouth.

Lexa's back arches off the bed as plump lips let out a long mewl, spurring Clarke on. Her tongue circles the clit slowly, drawing spirals around it, in increasingly tighter circles, ending with a playful flick over the engorged bud. "Fuck!" exclaims Lexa, closing her legs around Clarke's head, pulling her even closer. Clarke sucks on the clit one more time, before pressing a kiss to it and descending to dripping folds.

Instead of taking a long lick through Lexa, Clarke surprises her lover by thrusting her tongue inside her without preamble. The way Lexa's hips buck with a breathy cry is the sweetest reward. "Go on, Clarke,  _please_ — fuck, don't stop," Lexa begs, and Clarke could never say no to that. She snakes her left hand around Lexa's leg and traps her clit between her thumb and index fingers, thoroughly enjoying Lexa's desperate reactions, mouth running dirty and hips flying wild. Meanwhile, her tongue continues its assault, pushing in and out of Lexa, trying to reach as far as possible, flattening against velvet walls, exploring ever corner, swirling around and collecting and revelling in the wonderful ambrosia of her lover's arousal, curling inside and tapping at the spot that makes Lexa's toes curl every time, fingers white through torn beige sheets and jaw slack around delectable moans.

Clarke knows Lexa is close, so close, and knows just the way to push her over the edge. Her thumb draws a circle around Lexa's clit, then brushes over it, a small pinch and a gentle squeeze, before her fingers leave Lexa's hips altogether, so she can take the brunette's hands in her own and entwine their fingers. Her tongue buries further into its nest, flat against the inner wall, grazing every inch with each thrust, and she nudges the clit with her nose. Such a simple gesture, but brimming with love. That does it.

Lexa's body becomes rigid as a bowstring, her mouth opens and her eyes shut tightly, and then a long, moaning breath is tearing through her body, its lustful silence filling the whole room, till she collapses on the mattress, boneless, spent, chest heaving from the lingering, rippling orgasm. Clarke removes her tongue and licks her clean, gently, so as not to torment her lover with the aftershocks.

Clarke moves up Lexa's body with the intent of kissing her, but before she can do that, her breath catches at the sight of the woman she loves after bliss, still in bliss, naked and gorgeous, a goddess, and all Clarke's. Expression open, happy, half-lidded eyes, slightly parted lips, cheeks pink, haloing brown locks, chest up, down, up, down, in a divine dance for blue eyes only.

"You're so— I'm so— I— you are a wonder," she settles finally, breathless, still unsure how this imperfect woman, so perfect in her eyes, has chosen to be hers, if only for a limited amount of time. Clarke doesn't care about that now. She could have Lexa for a second and still die happy, for she's had her in her arms. Fuck, if this woman isn't the best thing that's ever happened to her. And God, if Clarke hasn't found several homes with her. Before her eyes, against her lips, in her arms, between her thighs. All Clarke can hope for is to be a home for Lexa too.

The kiss, one of so many they have shared already, feels unique, much like almost every single one. This one is slow, delectable, chaste. Tender, oh so tender. Gentle. Loving. Clarke can find so many doting adjectives for it, yet still come short of describing it wholly. Lexa's hips are a safe haven.

"We can talk now," Lexa whispers, chasing her lips when Clarke finally, reluctantly, pulls away. Her voice is raspy, breathy, and it warms Clarke's heart that she was the one to make it that way. She settles beside Lexa, arms wrapping around her waist, while the brunette's come up around her shoulders, pulling her even closer, legs tangling together. Clarke kisses Lexa's neck, then pulls slightly back to look at her eyes.

“Before you start justifying their every action— I liked them.” Lexa only raises an eyebrow in response. “Ok, I didn’t like Titus. But I guess he’s… an acquired taste?”

“Not really,” Lexa admits with a smirk.

Clarke doesn’t find it all that important, though, so she answers with a shrug. “I’ll have to learn to tolerate him, then.” Lexa releases her hold on Clarke and pulls the blonde to sit up with her, backs resting against the cushioned headboard, Clarke's head on Lexa's shoulder. She admires the tattoo on Lexa’s bicep, digits brushing over its contours, then the back of her fingers rubbing up and down absentmindedly. “Why does he call you Commander?”

Clarke thinks that if Lexa rolls her eyes any further they might get stuck to her forehead. “Titus is a strange man. He has a very religious approach to the company and I guess that because I lead Command, he views me as the Commander, as though it were some... kingdom rather than a company.”

Clarke nods, understanding the man’s logic. “I’d never seen or heard of him before,” she murmurs.

Lexa bites her lip, chews on it, clearly deciding whether to share the next piece of information with Clarke. Eventually she must decide that it’s safe, because a couple seconds later, she tells in hushed tones, “Titus is my adviser and enforcer, kind of like a hit-man, more of a trump card sometimes. His existence is often kept under wraps, so that he can work under the radar.”

“He has a lot of power within your company,” Clarke notes, not without a hint of concern.

Lexa’s grave nod conveys her awareness of Clarke’s worries. “His attitudes may be dubious, controlling even, but I know where his loyalties lie. He would never plot behind my back.”

Clarke hums in acceptance, but there is yet another question nipping at her brain. “If he’s secret… Why did you reveal him to me?”

Lexa looks at her like it is Clarke, and not the sun, that the earth orbits, and like the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I trust you, Clarke.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” the blonde teases, though there she finds herself being deceivingly truthful. “I might have secrets of my own.”

The look Lexa gives her is meaningful. “Do you?”

“Possibly.” The brunette simply nods, no further inquiry. “Do you?”

“Possibly.” Clarke is not sure this is a conversation she wants to have right now. Somehow, Lexa must read her mind, because not a minute later, her expression shifts to unburdened playfulness. “Do you want to see something interesting?” Clarke rests her hands on Lexa’s chest and her chin on top of them. She needs not reply, for Lexa already knows her answer. “Hello, Gustus.”

Clarke’s very confused frown is soothed by the deep, rumbling voice of Lexa’s secretary-slash-personal assistant sounding around the bedroom. “Hello, Miss Woods.” Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “What can I do for you?”

“I had it installed last week,” Lexa explains with a shrug and a soft smile. “I thought it would make sense for the AI to have Gustus’s voice.”

Of course that would make sense for Lexa. For Clarke, however, it’s merely fifty shades of creepy. Not any less endearing, though. Lexa has a very short list of people she trusts, Gustus included. That she would seek the comfort of having that familiar voice be her AI speaks volumes about her need to be surrounded only by those she loves and trusts. Lexa relies on no one, yet she also finds herself wanting, needing even, to trust a certain number of people, to have them be _important_ in her life.

“What does it do?”

Lexa smirks triumphantly. “Gustus, fetch me the morning papers.”

"Right away, Miss Woods," the voice complies.

The following moments are filled by Lexa explaining to her the whole process of 'fetching the morning papers', which turns out to be stupidly complex. Still, Lexa is happy and proudly showing off her new toy, so that means Clarke is happy and proudly hearing about it. Even if she only gets about half of exactly how it works.

Finally the papers arrive (somehow), on top of a small remote-controlled table-car... thing, and Lexa just looks so excited and radiant, child-like almost, that Clarke can't even bring herself to point out how ridiculous it all is. Except when Lexa starts rifling through a certain magazine, her small falters and Clarke's joy is immediately replaced by worry. "Babe?"

Lexa closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose, lets out a harsh breath. She then hands Clarke the magazine, open on the page that caused her mood to shift completely, before leaving the bed in distress. Clarke's stomach drops when she sees what it's about.

Just a day after the dreadful "BFF's" article where her relationship with Lexa was depicted as mere friendship, the photos her team handed out to the press have finally come out. "The glue that keeps them together," the article announces proudly, with pictures of both her outings with Nate and Lexa. She's seen hugging him and holding hands with Lexa and from that perspective, it does seem that she's good friends with both. After all, how would she credibly be dating one while being so openly close with the other?

"The blonde hottie, whose identity remains under wraps, doesn't let neither Nathan nor Alexandria stray or get too busy with their work," states the magazine, citing a 'source close to the couple' to claim that 'she's like couple's therapy in a person, best friends with the couple and always there for everything they need'. Disgusting. The 'easy friendship' with Lexa and 'obvious companionship' with Nate is 'wonderful to see' and, the source guarantees, 'there is no risk of infidelity', as the 'mystery blonde hottie' has her "eyes already set on someone else." Disgusting, uninformed, ludicrous, but harmless.

"Lexa, I don't—" Clarke looks up at her lover, who hasn't stopped pacing around the bedroom, hands clasped behind her back. "I don't see how this can harm you," she says honestly.

Lexa halts and her gaze snaps back to Clarke, disbelief etched upon her face. "You think that's why I'm upset?" Clarke shrugs insecurely. Any animosity that may have been present in Lexa's expression fades away, replaced by fondness, as she heads to the bed, kneeling on its edge, taking Clarke's hands in hers. "Clarke, that's not what bothers me at all." Clarke must have confusion written all over her face, for Lexa licks her lips nervously before explaining, "I know you used to be... into Nate and it's all in the past and you chose me," Lexa practically rambles, "so I really have no right to be bothered by it, but—"

Lexa never has the chance to finish her sentence, as Clarke's arms wrap tightly around her neck. "You have every right in the world to be bothered by it," Clarke reassures her lover in whispers into her neck. "Every right." Clarke feels Lexa nod, but needs to make it completely clear. She pulls back, only enough to be face-to-face with Lexa, breaths mingling, one of her hands brushing through Lexa's silky hair. "It's recent and it's hurtful and it was wrong. You not only have the right, but you  _are_ right to be bothered by it." Her thumb brushes over chestnut eyebrows, salient cheeks, pouty lips. "Ok?"

She can see that Lexa's nod is genuine, albeit a bit taken aback by the intensity of the moment. "Ok." Clarke presses their lips together fervently, before wrapping Lexa in another strong embrace, feeling the brunette's arms come up to circle her waist. God, she loves this woman so much. "I just—"

Clarke's heart constricts again, afraid of what might come. She breaks the embrace slowly, but keeps their fingers threaded together. "You can tell me, Lexa," she encourages. "Please tell me."

Lexa's jaw clenches as she nods and Clarke can see she's looking for the right words. Always thoughtful in her speech, Lexa won't want to leave one word out of place. Her whole demeanour changes, with the silent, dominant confidence Clarke admires so much seeping back in, back straightening and chin raising slightly. "What are we, Clarke?"

Oh, that question. "That is something only you can answer, Lexa," Clarke says with a faint smile.

Lexa heaves a small sigh, clearly still undecided. "I like that we are exclusive. We are," she then adds with a frown, "exclusive, right?" Clarke nods and pecks her lips lightly. "But we cannot be girlfriends, because there is the whole—"

"Marriage about to happen thing?" Clarke provides with a smirk.

Lexa has no choice but to nod. "Yes." A gulp. "But I want to be. Your girlfriend, I mean. And I want you to be mine. Even if I know I don't have the right to ask that of you."

"I don't think I have the right to give that to you," Clarke shrugs powerlessly.

"Right."

"But I want to, too." Lexa smiles sweetly at that. "And I don't really like seeing myself as your lover, even though that's technically what I am. But we're not really cheating."

"We're not," Lexa agrees softly. "Nate knows and supports, and my relationship with him has never anything but business and friendship, so we are technically not cheating."

Clarke's question comes out without thought. "Are we ever going to be theoretically not cheating too?" Lexa's face falls and Clarke regrets her words with every fibre of her being.

"I hope so," Lexa admits, igniting a hopeful flame in Clarke. "I want to choose you. I do. Yet I cannot, in good conscience, tell you that if it comes down to that, I would choose you over my company. I can't, Clarke, too much, too many, depend on Command and Polis for me to— I am trying to find a way that I can choose both. I just need more time."

"Time is exactly what we're running out of," Clarke notes, without a hint of resentment of bitterness. It's just the truth, no sentiment attached to it.

Lexa's hand comes up to cup her cheek and Clarke can't help but lean into her touch. "Time will be on our side when it matters."

 

* * *

 

Clarke clinks her tankard with the others and downs half of her beer in one go. She's missed these nights, with all of her team — simply her  _friends_ now, and what a relief that is — gathered in a booth at a local bar and drinking themselves either senseless or a year older. Bellamy, Octavia, Raven, Jasper and Monty, all of them except Lincoln, who is, according to Octavia, taking night classes for his business degree.

"We missed having you, Princess," Bellamy says warmly, a sweet smile making her feel even better about having come tonight. Her best friends are Raven and Octavia, but Bellamy has always been her brother-in-arms, the person that she can come to for anything, the one whose advice she values the most. They have always been sort of the mom and dad of the group. Not that they are older than the others; Bellamy is, but Raven is older than Clarke. Nevertheless, they are the ones that shoulder responsibility for almost every decision, and whom the others come to for guidance. Jasper often jokes that Clarke is the princess and Bellamy is her general; she makes the decisions, but he is the charismatic one. Clarke is the leader, but Bellamy is the one people follow.

Still, Clarke believes that Bellamy can make just as good decisions on his own.

This night has been quite the roller coaster already, though. Raven and Bellamy apparently 'broke up', which thoroughly confuses her, because she's pretty sure they're madly in love with each other. She guesses that's what happens when you're friends with benefits and shut out the feelings so you never lose the friendship. In the end, you end up losing both. As for the friendship, they used to be thick as thieves, and are naturally not as tight as before, but Clarke can see potential for healing there. Baby steps, she tells herself. Maybe they will even realise that their feelings are mutual. She knows for sure that Raven's are real and wants to see her best friend happy.

However, Raven has been nothing short of cheerful tonight. Octavia is clearly happy to have the gang back together, whereas Bellamy has been keeping to himself, but no less sweet. Monty is his usual adorable self, but Jasper has been grumbling all evening.

"I've developed this new program," Monty is telling them in a chipper tone, "it's already on your phone, Clarke, I installed it just before you left," he declares proudly. "I've tested it on Jasper's phone and it's  _so_ cool. It gives me full access to every feature of your phone, allows me to remotely control  _everything_. It's probably my best work to date, can't wait to show it to software development companies."

"I'm sure they'll love it, Monty," Clarke says. "As your favourite Guinea pig, I can tell you you're the greatest informatics genius I've ever had the pleasure to meet."

"You're also the only one," he grins cheekily. "Now tell us more about Lexa," he pleads. He's such a kind man, happy that others are happy, but never willing to sacrifice his own happiness. The world should have a lot more Monty's.

"Yeah, 'cause Clarke clearly doesn't talk enough about her," Raven teases, being joined by Octavia in other jesting comments. Bellamy rolls his eyes.

"She's amazing, guys, that's about it," Clarke shrugs, trying her best to be nonchalant about it but failing. Well, they asked for Lexa, so that's what she will give them. "She's just... God, she's just so good to me, you know? And then she does this thing— I adore her. She's like one a bubble gum lollipop." Her friends stare at her like she's crazy, and she definitely is. Crazy about Lexa. "I mean she has this tough, stoic exterior, zero emotions and all business-like and strict. But then you break those walls and she's just— fuck, she's mush. She's absolute mush. She's so sweet and kind and generous and selfless and she looks at me like... Like I'm the sole reason that the world exists," Clarke melts. "She respects me. So much. I know she would do everything for me and the most amazing thing is that I want to do everything for her too. I love her, guys. I really do. And I know none of us has said anything yet, but I know she loves me too."

There's a chorus of 'awww' around the table and Raven, Octavia and Monty are quick to give her a group hug. Clarke smiles so much her cheeks hurt. A common thing when she thinks or talks about Lexa.

"We're really glad you're happy, Griffin," Raven smiles.

"I am," she concurs. "I really am. I've found a companion. My companion. She's my best friend. Not like you and Octavia, a different kind. I'm wildly attracted to her, the sex is the best I've ever had, and our connection is so fucking  _romantic_ , but above all, I cherish the companionship. Having someone so reliable and willing to be completely open to me, and true, someone who I can fall asleep next to, spend all my nights with, I want to wake up to her beautiful face every day and enjoy all my mornings by her side. And just be there with and for her, talking, cuddling, watching a movie, just lying down, I don't care. I could spend every hour of every day for years on end with Lexa and I would never get tired of it. And sex with her is so fucking amazing, but with the way she makes me feel, it's like it's not even a necessity. It's almost like... a gift. Like the cherry on top, the intimacy to top all the sides of her that I am so, _so_ lucky to enjoy."

"You're telling us you two don't have a lot of sex?" Octavia mocks, already knowing the answer.

"Oh no, we've been going at it like bunnies," Clarke laughs. "But... just enjoying her company is as good to me, if not even better. I'm in love with all of her, not just her fingers and tongue."

"TMI, Clarke," Bellamy grimaces, while Octavia laughs at his expense. "What about your secret? The fact that you basically used her for a while?"

"I'm going to tell her," she promises. "I don't want to leave anything unsaid between us."

"Don't." She narrows her eyes at Bellamy, incredulous. "Look, if you tell her now, she'll think you've been fucking with her this whole time. Let the time pass and if you really need to come clean, do it only after she chooses what she wants. That way it can't affect the outcome. And you'll probably forget it by then anyway," he shrugs. Clarke thinks about his words carefully. Bellamy is the oldest of them all, the most experienced at everything, and her best adviser. If he's so sure that it's best to keep the secret until after Lexa makes her choice— "Trust me, Clarke. It's the best thing to do," he reassures.

Clarke nods reluctantly, promising herself to think it over carefully. Bellamy's advice is the best, but this is too dangerous a decision to make over drinks.

A few good-natured jokes later, even Jasper is having fun and taking part in all the teasing, be the target Clarke or anyone else. Clarke realises then, the secret all but forgotten, that while she's perfectly happy just being with her friends, she feels the need to start bringing Lexa along, including her in their group, sharing her happiness and friends with the woman she loves. Clarke finds herself wanting Lexa to be a part of everything in her life.

"I'm really sorry that things didn't work out with Bellamy, Rae," Clarke laments, when the guys are at the bar, asking for a new round of drinks.

The brunette shrugs. "It's ok, really. His heart was not in it, mine wasn't enough. I don't  _need_ someone in my life. It would be nice to have that, but my job _is_ the love of my life. I think someone will come along one day, who I will love, and they will love me back, but they must know and accept that nothing comes before the work I do with NASA. I'm perfectly happy being alone as long as I can do what I love. The other way around, I would be miserable," she explains with a small but genuine smile.

"I really admire your passion for your work, Rae," Clarke says sincerely. "That and the way you defy all stereotypes. You and Lexa are cut from the same cloth."

"Well what an honour, being compared to Her Majesty Supreme," Raven teases with a wide grin. "I thought Lexa was way up there in the Olympus or something."

"She is, and so are you." The men come back with the drinks, shifting the conversation to the whole group once more. "So how is the business doing?" Clarke asks with excitement, but regrets her question as soon as silence settles and the atmosphere becomes uncomfortable.

Bellamy is the first to break the odd atmosphere. "Business is... not doing so good," he admits, half sad and half grumpy. "Since you left, it's been either failed jobs or no jobs at all."

"Maybe it's just a fluke?" she suggests hopefully, trying to keep the guilt from taking over her good mood.

"It's really not, Clarke," Octavia intervenes, but her words are gentle, her sadness is conveyed with a smile. "Monty has an offer from Raven. I'm going to start working at the café with Lincoln, till I find something else. We rejected an offer this morning and I think that was it. I mean, without you, we don't have a face, you know? But hey," she places a hand atop Clarke's. "This is not your fault. This is not your fault, ok?"

Then why does it feel like it is? Clarke feels the guilt eating away at her, gnawing at her insides, swallowing her whole. She left them. She left them to fend for themselves, she stepped away and never looked back. What kind of friend, if that's even a word she's worthy of right now, has she been to them?

"Yeah, Griffin, you can't beat yourself up over this," Raven chimes in, pulling a smile out of her. "You felt like you crossed a line, there's no way you could've kept doing it. Besides, you found Lexa. You couldn't be in a relationship while doing this job. It's not your fault."

"Sure feels like it is." Every head turns to Jasper, who is wearing a scowl, almost as though he's disgusted by this whole situation. "What? Are y'all really going to keep pretending you don't blame her? We're gonna keep _pretending_ it's not her fault?"

"Jasper, don't—"

"Don't  _what_ , Octavia?" he snaps. "Tell her the truth? Speak what on everybody's mind?" Then he turns to Clarke. "Lincoln is taking business classes because without our business, his café is as good as dead. Octavia has applied to countless jobs, but they reject her every time, because she's been working outside her area of expertise for too long. Monty has that offer from Raven, but his dream is to keep developing software, something no one seems to be willing to give him a chance to do, because our business wouldn't look good in a CV, so he technically has no credentials," he scoffs. "As for Bellamy and I—"

"Enough!" The table freezes at Monty's words. It's so rare to see him lose his temper, but when he does, it makes an impact. "Stop blaming everyone else for your mistakes, Jasper."

This seems to make his best friend even more livid. "My mistakes?  _My_ mistakes?! She," he almost yells, standing up, finger pointed at Clarke, "is the one who just up and left. She's the one who found some pussy to stuff her face in and suddenly decided to grow a conscience!" The words sting, hurt, burn. Yet Clarke can't really bring herself to deny them.

Bellamy must see the tears starting to sting her eyes, for he stands up too and places a soothing hand on Jasper's shoulder. "Take it easy, Jasper. We're all on the same side."

"On the same side?" Jasper laughs. "No, _we_ ," he gestures between himself and Bellamy, "are on the same side. They," he points at Monty, Raven and Octavia, "are hypocrites. And _she_ ," that finger, which feels like an arrow to the heart, points back at Clarke, "ruined our lives."

"Come on dude, no need to—"

"No need to  _what_ , Bellamy? Speak the truth? Stop walking on eggshells around the person that screwed us over? Tell her, man, tell her how your life has been since she left us."

That seems to spur something in Bellamy, who sighs reluctantly and turns to her. "You did leave us between a rock and a hard place, Clarke. I mean, O, Raven and Monty are surviving, but the two of us..."

Octavia scoffs. "Don't act like that's Clarke's fault."

"But it kind of is, isn't it?" he presses, and each second seems to contribute to making up his mind completely. "I mean, Jasper and I gave up our studies to dedicate ourselves to this business completely. Now... No one wants two college dropouts, we have no perspectives."

"We all advised you against it," Clarke intervenes. "We all told you to carry on with your studies. I'm sorry that I left with no warning and I'm sorry that you're having a hard time moving on, but I never promised— you couldn't really believe it would last forever?"

"Hard not to when it was you leading the charge, Princess," he admits with a sad smile, his voice tinged with a sliver of something that Clarke cannot identify, but makes her extremely uncomfortable. "And then you left to live your fairytale life, while the rest of us—" His features harden again. "We don't all have a shiny medical degree to parade around or a mom that can get us in virtually every hospital we can think of. Some of us actually have to fight for what we want."

Well. That hurt. Clarke's eyes fill with tears and she opens her mouth several times to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Bellamy's expression softens and he crouches beside her, gently taking her hand between his.

"Come back, Clarke," he whispers in his gruff but tender voice. "Come back to us. Come back—" He sighs. "Please come back to work with us."

"I can't," she sobs. It hurts, it hurts so much that they blame her — and she blames herself. "I'm with Lexa. I can't—" Her hand dropping at her side cuts her off. Bellamy stands back up, expression dark.

"She changed you, Clarke," he grits out, no sweetness in his voice now, only resentment. "You've changed and I can assure you it was not for the better. I don't even recognise this new you. You let yourself be manipulated into this... this  _thing_ , and I count the minutes till you finally realise how toxic she is for you. She _will_ leave you, Clarke, and I'll be there to pick up the pieces, even though you never bothered to be here for us."

 

* * *

 

With Lexa's arms around her, lying on Clarke's couch, legs tangled and bodies fused into one, her face buried in Lexa's neck, the tears don't feel so painful. The ache becomes duller and Lexa's comforting presence sends a calm, understated wave of happiness to her heart. Clarke is sure that Lexa's shirt is ruined from her tears and snot, but that's yet further proof that this woman would ruin a thousand shirts if it meant being there for her.

Clarke didn't tell any specifics; Lexa promised she didn't need them. "I fucked up and now my friends hate me," Clarke said on the phone once she came home, or at least something along those lines, and ten minutes later, Lexa was knocking on her door and taking her in her arms, shielding her from the world.

Her sobbing eventually subsides, but Lexa doesn't let her go. Clarke wouldn't want her to, anyway.

"I have news for you that might cheer you up," Lexa whispers, long and beautiful fingers combing gently through her hair. Clarke only hums in encouragement, nodding against her neck. "I've been scheduled to travel to Amsterdam next month for a business transaction. I'll be there for a week. It's a beautiful city, calm and just the perfect place to visit."

Clarke feels a bright smile growing on her lips. "That's wonderful, Lex. I hope you love it there and then come back and tell me everything about it."

"I'm sure I will," Lexa chuckles. "But that's not why it's great news. I would love to take you with me, Clarke."

Clarke raises her head from where it was burrowed in Lexa's neck and locks eyes with the brunette, her own wide as saucers. "You want me to go with you? Really?"

"Really," Lexa confirms with a cute lopsided smile. "Would you like to come with me?"

Clarke's breathy laugh is still tainted by the tears of minutes ago, but she feels all but pure bliss. "Yes. Fuck, I— I'd love to, Lexa. Yes. Thank you." She straddles Lexa's face in her hands and starts peppering kisses all over her forehead, eyes, cheeks, lips, overjoyed. A thought occurs to her and she stops suddenly. "Wait. What about your wedding?"

Lexa's smile widens into a toothy grin, a rare wonder. "That's the second good news. I told you time would be on our side when it mattered, Clarke." Her striking green eyes are shining with emotion and she takes a deep breath before finally revealing, "The wedding has been postponed by a month."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May the "we hate the sky idiots" party begin! I didn't want to end every section with dialogue, but those lines were all perfect to end things with. And get ready for a time jump, may the third part begin ;)
> 
> Thoughts? Theories? What did you think of this rather eventful chapter? I love your comments and kudos so much, leave them all under the cut, I want to be like Scrooge McDuck and swim in your feedback!
> 
> And of course, you can always visit me at 100hearteyes.tumblr.com.


	15. "I'm going to tell her"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on "the break upper":
> 
> Clarke met the 'family': Anya, the best friend; Indra, the right-hand woman; and Titus, the secret weapon, Lexa's most trusted associate. Bellamy and Octavia have a meeting at Azgeda, where Titus offers them a deal in turn for exposing Lexa (*gasp*). They refuse. Clarke meets with her friends and gushes about Lexa, but the night ends in a bad note when Jasper and Bellamy, who dropped out of college to dedicate themselves exclusively to their business, accuse her of leaving them without so much as a warning and being responsible for their lack of prospects for the future. Lexa invites Clarke to go with her on a business trip to Amsterdam, and reveals that the wedding has been postponed by a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 900 comments (half of them mine, I know lol)? Almost 3,000 kudos? Over 500 bookmarks? You guys deserve the world. Thank you, thank you so much. You're the real MVP's.
> 
> Forgive any mistakes, please warn me about any glaring errors. Enjoy!

**1 month later**

Clarke drops her unpacked suitcase beside the bed and looks around in awe. De L'Europe Amesterdam, one of the most luxurious hotels in an already luxurious city. Clarke isn't one for needless luxury and expenses, but this... Well, trips like this require certain standards and commodities. And honestly, she can't wait to spend some quality time alone with Lexa, on the outrageously comfy bed and making the most of the prestige one-bedroom suite with river view that was booked for the CEO. Of course, if it were her lover's decision, they would just set up a tent, flood it with candles, and sleep on stinky old furs. Fortunately for Clarke though, the company workers' accommodation is not up to Lexa.

"This is so over my pay check," she laughs, and leans back against Lexa's body when she feels two strong arms encircle her waist. Lips start planting tender kisses up the side of her neck. "Why did no one find it weird that you're taking me on this trip?"

"I do it frequently," Lexa says in between kisses. "I bring a friend with me for passing time between meetings." Lexa must feel Clarke tense in her arms, because not a second later she adds, "But not like this." She turns Clarke around and looks deeply into blue eyes. "Not like us."

Clarke purses her lips together and lets out a frustrated breath through her nose. "I'm sorry. I— I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry."

She feels a pair of lips press against her forehead, then a pair of fingers under her chin, coaxing her to meet soulful green eyes. "It's okay," Lexa reassures her. "We are both in confusing territory here, and I cannot say that I would not have been... Bothered," the brunette chooses the word carefully, "in that situation, too."

"Please," Clarke scoffs. "You're above that."

Lexa’s eyebrow rises with surprising quickness, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “Am I?”

Clarke can’t help but frown. “Well— yeah, I mean… I don’t recall you ever being jealous.”

Lexa grabs both her hands and spins her around, as though in a dance, then pulls her back in. The feeling of Lexa’s breasts pressed against her back and arms circling her waist, making them sway to the beat of soundless music, is something she yearns to relish all her life. Lexa kisses her cheek, before nuzzling at it.

“Your friend Bellamy,” she whispers. _What about Bellamy_ , Clarke asks herself, utterly confused. “When I met him. I hated the way his eyes roamed all over your body.”

Clarke grimaces in disgust at such a ludicrous image. “That’s gross,” she laughs. “Bell is a brother to me.”

Lexa hums thoughtfully. “Are _you_ a sister to _him_?”

“Of course,” she dismisses airily.

“Have you ever slept with him?”

“Would you sleep with your brother?”

“I do not have brothers,” Lexa reminds her with a smirk and the swipe of a thumb over the skin of her hips.

“Would you sleep with Anya?”

From the corner of her eye, Clarke can see Lexa’s nose wrinkle in disgust. “No. Anya is like—“

“—a sister to you?” Clarke finishes teasingly. At that, Lexa has no choice but to smirk.

“You are quite argumentative, Clarke Griffin.” Her words are punctuated with a small lick to the blonde’s earlobe, causing a shiver. Clarke’s hand comes up to cup Lexa’s jaw, keeping her in place. The brunette gets the hint and starts nibbling and sucking at the erogenous zone. “I guess I will have to find a way to… make you forget the English language.”

“What, you like me more with my mouth shut?”

This seems to make Lexa reconsider. “On second though, I love that beautiful mouth of yours hanging wide open,” the CEO husks softly as dangerous fingers snake their way down Clarke’s hips and under the waistband of her jeans and panties, “screaming my name.”

Clarke is about to moan, but stops herself. No. This— this is a good opportunity to talk. Clarke has been thinking about what Bellamy said — only telling Lexa the truth _after_ the brunette has made a decision — and she has come to the conclusion that Lexa should be able to make a fully informed decision, and knowing the truth is an essential part of it.

She stops Lexa’s hands from travelling farther down and steps away from safe arms, walking to the bed. She sits down, hands fumbling nervously. “We should talk.”

Lexa’s confused frown is, as always, a joy to behold. “Talk about what?”

Clarke takes a moment to answer, still trying to find the words to say, the thoughts to think, the truths to tell. “I think— no, I _know_ I need… I need to tell you something. It’s been,” she brings her hands to her hair, gripping at it like a lifeline. “It’s been eating away at me and I feel like I can’t breathe every time that I’m with you and I don’t say the things that I need to say.”

Lexa bites her lower lip, clearly considering Clarke’s words. “Does… it have to be now?” she asks hesitantly, and Clarke’s gaze snaps up to her.

“Yes? I mean, no, but I would really… I would really like to get this weight off of my shoulders.” She tries to meet Lexa’s eyes, but the brunette averts them.

“We could have had this conversation any other day,” Lexa remarks, her voice barely above a whisper, cold and detached unlike what she has used Clarke to. “Why now?”

Good question. One Clarke has no answer for save for the absurd, selfish truth. “I wasn’t ready,” she breathes out, and it comes out strangled, ashamed.

“You weren’t ready?” Lexa echoes, a frown in her tone. “You know what, I don’t care.”

Clarke is taken aback by her reaction. “You don’t care?” When she looks up again, Lexa is taking off her watch, as though the conversation were happening in another room entirely and had nothing to do with her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting ready for bed,” she says with a bite to her voice, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does it look like to you?”

Clarke can’t help but stare in disbelief as the CEO sits down on the bed, getting rid of her shoes. “But what about— What about what I wanted to tell you?”

Scorching yet cold green eyes turn to her, plump lips pressed into a thin line. “I will not have this conversation now. We are here to enjoy what little time we have left, away from the rest of the world. I refuse to let anything ruin the next few days.”

Clarke braces herself for the punch line, but it never comes. She thinks it hurts more like this. Her hands tear at each other, fingers and nails carving moons of desperation and certainty into her skin, her lap a safety net she doesn’t think she deserves.

It’s only a few seconds later, however, that a hand covers her own. “I’m sorry.”

“ _You_ are sorry?” Clarke chuckles sadly, still not looking at the love of her life. Or some life not this one. “How about me? Not ready,” she mocks. “How old am I? Eighteen? I’m just ridiculous.”

She can feel Lexa trying to come up with a comforting reply. She doesn’t. Silence follows; not uncomfortable, though still trying to figure itself out.

“I think we both are a bit ridiculous,” Clarke finally hears, a tinge of humorous rue to Lexa’s whisper. At long last she turns to regard her lover, already dressed for bed, and that smile crooked smile she loves is right there, shyly gracing the most beautiful lips. “Can this…”

“Wait?”

“Yes.”

“So we _will_ —“

“Yes.”

Clarke nods, pensive, still serious, but the mood between them lighter. Then she turns back to Lexa and eyes her pajamas enviously. Her hands squeeze Lexa’s one. “Can we go to bed?”

Lexa nods with a smile. All is forgotten. For now.

 

* * *

 

Clarke falls in love with Amsterdam. She loves the streets, the river, the bridges, the canals, the tall and lean houses, all the bicycles. The deep cultural roots, the art, the literature, the magic of the city at night. Everything is just so beautiful, and Clarke would gladly live here forever. Lexa shares the sentiment.

They have the first full day all to themselves. Lexa has all her employees working all day, so as soon as they leave the hotel, the couple can feel and act as such. Walking along the streets of Amsterdam without a destination, hand in hand — or mitten in glove —, long coats warming them up, with beanies on their heads, and small flakes of snow giving their hair an air of Christmas.

Lexa pulls her closer, hugs her, nuzzles her cheek; kisses her even. Clarke has never seen Lexa smile quite as brightly as now. She wants this, and not just for the next few days. She wants this forever.

In an act of rare and unbridled spontaneity, Lexa buys them ice-skates and drags Clarke to the riverside, where children glide over the frozen Amstel. They have way too much fun figure skating, playing tag, and even having fun with the children, fun overcoming all language barriers. Lexa even takes off her skates at some point, and starts running around in just her socks, to Clarke and the children’s absolute glee. Obviously, she trips a lot, and her pants are soaked by the time the sun has gone to sleep and they say goodbye to the kids.

They head to a bar and Lexa demands that they drink Amstel lager in a frozen glass tankard, because Lexa — being Lexa — would never accept not living the complete Amsterdam experience, whatever that means, down to the tiniest detail. Clarke loves her for it.

The next day, Lexa has to work during the morning, but they still take the afternoon off to visit the Rijksmuseum, the Van Gogh Museum, the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, and the Concertgebouw, as per Clarke’s request.

On the third day, Lexa has a full schedule. She warns Clarke that her phone will be off, so anything she wants to say will have to be relayed by voicemail. Clarke kisses her good luck, then see you later, then come back to me soon, and then have a nice day. Lexa is almost late for work. At night, they fall asleep tangled in each other. Clarke loves the sex, but she also loves these evenings when Lexa comes home too tired for anything and just gets in bed behind Clarke, holding her close, her breath gradually evening out against Clarke’s neck.

Lexa has the morning of the fourth day off, so they take the chance to visit the Anne Frank House, the Rembrandt House Museum and, finally, Hermitage Amsterdam. On their way back to the hotel, Clarke couldn’t help thinking about all the things left unsaid, and makes the decision to tell Lexa everything. Or almost everything. What use is an immaculate vacation if they can’t close the remaining space between them? She decides to do it the following day, since Lexa has the morning off.

“I think we should have that talk,” she says while Lexa is getting ready. The brunette, who is putting on her watch, her back to Clarke, turns to face her, eyebrow raised.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

Lexa’s jaw clenches. “I thought we had agreed to delay it till _after_ this week,” she reminds in a low voice, and it would be threatening, were it not for the fact that with Clarke, Lexa is anything but.

“I can’t keep holding on to it, Lexa. It’s killing me!”

Lexa finally finishes setting up her watch and gives Clarke her full attention. “What about _my_ feelings, Clarke?” she argues passionately. “What about the fact that I just want to spend seven days with the woman I care about, away from everything and everyone else, away from all the drama of the real world? What about the fact that maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to hear about it because I _know_ it will hurt me, perhaps destroy us, and maybe I prefer to just ignore it altogether?”

Clarke walks over to Lexa, like being in the brunette’s personal space will actually help her deliver the point home. “It’s not healthy to just ignore our problems, Lexa. And right now, this issue— this big, fat issue we’re sitting on, _is_ the root of our problems.”

“We don’t have any problems,” Lexa growls quietly, baring her teeth.

“Yes we do!” Clarke exclaims in exasperation, throwing her hands up to the sky. “We do, Lexa! Like the fact that I don’t even know if you’re going to want me after this— no wait, let me finish,” she pleads,” you _know_ I don’t blame you, and I’m not trying to make you feel bad, you know I would never, it just… I can’t pretend it doesn’t affect me. And I need to come clean to you Lexa, because if there’s a chance, the tiniest chance even, that it will affect your decision, even if it’s for the worse, then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself — to live with _you_ , as happy as we may be — if I didn’t give you all the tools, good or bad, to make your decision. I can’t, in good conscience, withhold from you what could be the difference between you saying yes or no.”

“It does no one good to dwell on the past, Clarke. What happened happened, whatever it was, and however it might have affected us. It’s no use unearthing it now.”

“That’s just plain stupid, Lexa, and you know it.”

“It’s the truth, Clarke!” the brunette exclaims, clearly losing her patience. “I am _not_ sacrificing my happiness just because you want to make peace with your conscience!”

Clarke’s expression is of pure disbelief. How can Lexa, her Lexa, the Lexa she knows and loves, be saying these things? It’s like she’s another person entirely. “I swear I don’t understand you sometimes,” she sighs. “It’s like I’m dealing with two different people.”

“They are very much the same person, Clarke,” Lexa counters with annoyance.

“I just feel like you’re always… I don’t know. I feel like you still haven’t let me in completely, and I keep taking walls down, one after the other, without really… getting to you, the real you.” Lexa’s confused frown lets her know she’s not making herself clear. “I don’t know if the you I’ve seen so far is actually the real you. I mean, I know it is, but— I feel like there’s parts I’ve yet to see, and you’re not letting me. Like… like you’re constantly keeping things from me.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Lexa scoffs.

“Really mature, Lexa,” she spits. “I’m _trying_ to tell you what I’ve been hiding, but for some fucked up reason, you’re not letting me!”

“Because I don’t want to!” the brunette explodes, putting on her blazer, ready to leave. “Whatever you did, it will not affect my feelings for you, so why even open that can of worms?”

“That’s bullshit. Pretending things don’t exist doesn’t make them go away.” Lexa starts heading to the door, obviously done with the conversation. “Our issues won’t go away just because you stick your head in the sand and pretend they don’t exist!“

Lexa opens the door and turns to Clarke, her gaze cold. “I will not hear this,” she states icily and leaves, slamming the door shut.

Clarke is left behind, red faced and spent, head dropping to her hands, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “Well, fuck.”

 

* * *

 

Lexa is gone for the whole afternoon. Which is as expected, but in the light of what happened, it feels outrageous and as long as eternity.

Clarke tries to distract herself, she really does. She goes out to explore the city, yet Amsterdam doesn’t look quite as beautiful today. She doesn’t enter any bars — drinking, in her current state of mind, would be a terrible decision. So she’s left with wandering about, entirely disenchanted with everything around her.

Their fight was... confusing. It felt like they were arguing in circles, never diving into the core of their problems. As for Lexa, she's being just as confusing as their fight was. Also wrong. Lexa is wrong, there is no other way around it. This is not about Clarke desiring to make peace with her conscience; this is about helping Lexa make the best decision possible, even if that entails ending their relationship. The last thing Clarke wants is for Lexa to look back and regret her choices.

How to make her see that, though? Clarke can’t lie: despite her insistence, facing Lexa and telling her everything is nothing short of terrifying. She’s certain Lexa will leave her, probably force her to board the next flight to New York and never speak to her again. Nonetheless, the truth is the truth and telling Lexa everything (almost everything?) is of paramount importance. She has to at least _try_.

It comes to her like a shooting star: out of nowhere, shining, all too entrancing. Voicemail.

Lexa’s phone is off during her meetings, so any call is certain to go to voicemail. That way, she can tell Lexa everything, without even having to do so face to face. It’s so much easier to be brave that way.

A thought stops her, though. Lexa’s voicemail has been acting up. However, instead of an obstacle, Clarke sees it as an opportunity. If the voicemail is delivered, perfect. Lexa will finally know and she can make a fully informed decision. If it delivers but Lexa doesn’t listen to it, then it’s her problem. If the voicemail fails to deliver, though…

Well.

At least Clarke _tried_.

Yes. It’s the perfect plan. So perfect, actually, that Clarke feels like kicking herself for not having come up with it sooner.

She fishes her phone from her purse and quickly dials Lexa’s number. Clarke readies herself. It goes directly to voicemail. The heaviness of everything is starting to really weigh down on Clarke. The typical message plays. She’s actually going to tell Lexa the truth, the whole truth. Pause. Are those tears in her eyes? The beep sounds. Clarke takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Lexa, I—” she chokes on all the emotions that come rushing to the surface. A few seconds pass before she can continue. “Fuck. I… I need— I need to tell you this, Lex. You need to know. Even if—“

The call drops. First try: a disaster.

She dials Lexa’s number again. It goes directly to voicemail. Clarke readies herself. The typical message plays. She needs to get it all out. Pause. No excuses. The beep sounds. Clarke takes a shallow, shaky breath.

“Lexa, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have to. You’ll probably want nothing to do with me after this. I don’t care. I mean, I do, but your happiness comes first.” Her words come out rushed, not a breath between them. “I used to break people up for money. Other stuff too, like knowing secrets, but that’s what’s important here. And I actually slept with a few of them, so you’re free to judge, though I really wish you wouldn’t, because it was my choice and I don’t regret it. But anyway, Azgeda—“

She’s cut off once more. Second try: needs a third to be successful.

She dials Lexa’s number yet again, no time to lose. It goes directly to voicemail. Clarke readies herself. The typical message plays. Clarke recalls what she just revealed and what she has yet to. Pause. Fast, concise speech. The beep sounds. Clarke takes a deep, teary breath.

“As I was saying, Azgeda got word of us and hired my team to break Nate and you up,” Clarke picks up from where she let off seamlessly. “So I tried to seduce him. Even as I was getting closer to you, I was trying to get him into bed with me, and record something, anything, that would incriminate him. We even tried our luck at photographs — well they did, because I was already out at the time and Raven and I tried to sabotage them. Anything that would earn us the money we were promised. But what I wasn’t counting on—“

The phone call dies again. Third try: just one more.

She dials Lexa’s number one last time. It goes directly to voicemail. Clarke readies herself. The typical message plays. Clarke recalls what she just said and what she has yet to say. Pause. Her tears show no sign of letting up. The beep sounds. Clarke tries to take a breath.

“What I wasn’t counting on was you. Right from the beginning, I knew you were gay, and I was so fucking drawn to you. I should’ve noticed sooner that Nate is gay too, but then I kept pushing and I just— it’s so… I feel so— _bad person_. And I really needed to tell you this because I was trying to seduce your fiancé and break you up for money, and I used you at first, but I also want to know that I 100% gave up on it, even if I kept it from you all this time, and I'm so sorry for that. You’re— you’re my life, Lexa,” she sobs at last, her body crumbling into itself. “You’re my whole life.”

One, two, three seconds pass. _Beep_. The phone call ends. Clarke collapses against the wall of some building, phone clutched tightly in her hand. Out loud, the truth sounded ten times worse than she’d ever thought it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several excuses for why this took so long. All valid, all true, but who cares. I'm just glad it's finally written :)
> 
> The next chapter is already "thirdway" written, so I will be much faster to update. However, I am now writing a Christmas one-shot, so don't expect chapter 16 to be up before the 25th. It might happen, but I don't want to give you guys hope and then fail you.


	16. “talk about what?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on "the break upper":
> 
> Clarke met the 'family': Anya, Indra, and Titus — the secret weapon, Lexa's most trusted associate. Bell and Octavia have a meeting at Azgeda, where Titus offers them a deal in turn for exposing Lexa (*gasp*). They refuse. Clarke meets with her friends, but the night ends in a bad note when Jasper and Bellamy, who dropped out of college to dedicate themselves exclusively to their business, accuse her of leaving them and being responsible for their lack of prospects for the future. Lexa invites Clarke to go with her on a business trip to Amsterdam, and reveals that the wedding has been postponed by a month. After a few blissful days in the wonderful city, Clarke tries to tell Lexa the truth, but the latter refuses to hear it, so Clarke confesses through voicemail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No excuses. I hope you like this chapter :) it's got a bit of everything. Despite the struggle to write it, I'm personally quite happy with it.

It’s past midnight by the time Clarke gets to their hotel room. She expects Lexa to be up by now, seeing as the brunette has another meeting in the morning. Her suspicion is confirmed when she opens the door and finds nothing but darkness.

She flicks the lights on and a figure, sitting on the short glass table and hunched back turned to the door, reveals itself. Lexa stands up as she turns around, eyes widening as they take in Clarke’s presence.

Clarke can only stand in place as Lexa jogs up to her. “Clarke, I was so worried. You never—“ Lexa wraps her in a firm, relieved hug and words become muffled. “I’m so sorry, Clarke, I hope you can forgive me.” A hand settles on the back of her head, guiding her face to bury in Lexa’s shoulder, and Clarke can’t help the tears that threaten to spill. “I was being an ostrich.”

“An ostrich?” Clarke echoes with a watery laugh, leaning back to look into her lover’s eyes.

“Yes, an ostrich,” Lexa confirms, ever so serious despite the ridiculous words. “I was burying my head in the sand, trying to ignore our problems, instead of trying to fix them. Can you forgive me?”

Even if Clarke wanted to hold on to a grudge — which she most certainly doesn’t —, she could never, for her sins are a seventy times seven times worse than Lexa’s. “Yes,” she gasps out, breathing in the wonderful scent of the woman she loves. “Of course I forgive you, Lexa.” They stand still for some minutes, before Clarke finally breaks the silence that has settled comfortably around them. “So you got my voicemail?”

Lexa pulls back, effectively ending the embrace, to regard Clarke carefully, her brow set in a frown. “What voicemail?”

Now it’s Clarke’s eyebrows that knit together. “What do you mean what voicemail, Lexa? Check your messages.”

“I have, Clarke,” Lexa snaps. “I do so after every meeting. There was nothing from you.” The brunette seems to realise that she just snapped at Clarke and her eyes widen in regret. “I’m sorry, Clarke, I should not have—“

“No, it’s— Don’t worry, it’s okay.”

Clarke steps away from Lexa, all too dazed to care about the CEO snapping at her. Lexa didn’t get her voicemail.

Lexa didn’t get her voicemail.

“But how…?” she wonders out loud, with a desperation in her voice that Lexa is quick to pick up on.

“My voicemail has been acting up,” the brunette offers weakly as justification. “I usually fail to receive one or two messages.”

Clarke knows. She accounted for that. But now she wishes she didn't, she wishes she'd saved her courage for later, because now it's long left her body.

"Regardless," Lexa starts, already turning a new page, "I am here to listen to whatever you have to say and make up for my pertinacious behaviour."

Clarke smiles ruefully at her lover's words. "You don't have to be so formal, Lexa. All you have to do is listen."

Lexa nods and Clarke can see she has her undivided attention. But now, under the gaze of expectant green eyes and the weight of anticipation, Clarke is all but mute.

"Clarke." She knows it's meant to be encouraging, but it falls flat. Instead, Lexa's words pressure her to rush to a finish line she has already crossed — and is not sure she can bring herself to cross again.

She can't. Not really. Despite her previous fervent resolve to come clean and tell Lexa everything — absolutely everything; she is now empty of words that can fully reconcile her conscience with the thought of a future with the love of her life.

Maybe there is another way. Maybe Clarke has not yet thought to explore all possible paths leading to that crazy little thing someone decided to call a clean conscience. Oh how she wishes right now she could live in a Ricky Gervais movie, where lies and deception are but myths and humanity's mother tongue is truth.

Or maybe she doesn't have to refrain from telling the truth. Maybe there is redemption in omission and a way to create tapestry with just enough threads.

Maybe there is a way to tell Lexa everything the brunette needs to know, whilst escaping the overwhelming repetition of the thorough unearthing of her sins, a process tried just a few hours ago and which left her emotionally spent.

It was not an error; yet it was a trial she does not wish to repeat. Going through it once was no Ariadne's thread; if she were to go through it again, Clarke is not sure her sanity would withstand the madness of such labyrinth.

Gargantuan is the challenge of turning lies into gospel.

The first thing Clarke needs is a tether to reality, sanity. She finds it in Lexa’s hand, which she reaches for and holds onto with care, and then leads the brunette to the bed, sitting on the edge, and Lexa does the same. Clarke lays Lexa’s hand on her lap as long, thin fingers caress hers.

“Lexa, I…” She takes a deep breath, trying to sort out her next words. “I don’t know how to say this,” she admits despondently. “I don’t know how to say this without you judging or despising me or— or hating me.”

“I could never hate you, Clarke,” Lexa says with disarming honesty.

Clarke her forehead on the brunette’s temple, a silent thanks for the comforting words. She feels gentle fingertips brush golden strands out of her face and finally gathers the courage to speak.

“Remember when I said that I was in the divorce business?” Lexa nods her head. “Well, that wasn’t true. At least not exactly,” Clarke rambles. “I mean, you could say that my job _lead_ to divorce, sometimes even had that intention, but that wasn’t—“ She groans in frustration. “Rip the band aid off,” she mutters to herself. “I used to sleep with other people. Not really, though, I only did it when necessary,” she elucidates, “but I did do it more often than I would’ve liked. Usually it was, uh, ‘commissioned’ by a third party.”

Clarke breathes, feeling lighter. It feels good to tell the truth. When she chances a glance at Lexa, the CEO is deep in thought.

“Lexa?” she tries hesitantly. Lexa raises her hand, requesting silence, but Clarke is too nervous to comply. “Lex, please say something. You’re scaring me.”

Lexa shows no reaction but for her clenched jaw. “I am processing it, Clarke,” she finally speaks, not afraid to hold the blonde’s gaze. “Considering what you have told me.”

Clarke can do nothing other than nod as Lexa’s eyes return to the wall in front of them. The answer she has been dreading never comes, though, so she feels compelled to answer it regardless.

It’s the moment of truth. “When I tried to seduce Miller, was it part of my job?” Lexa’s gaze snaps back to Clarke, but she holds her own.

Lexa clamps her jaw even tighter than before. “You don’t need to tell me.”

“But I want to.” Lexa nods reluctantly, certainly afraid to hear the truth.

“Was it?”

 _Here goes nothing_ , Clarke thinks. The truth. “No.”

She’s just ruined everything. She’s taken out the shovel and started digging a hole so deep she’ll only be able to come out of it through the other side of the Earth.

Lexa frowns in confusion. “No?”

There is something about that moment when you start digging yourself a hole. Suddenly, all you can do is keep digging and digging, in spite of _everything_ in you telling you to stop. But in the panic of the moment, when you realise just how deep you already are, all you can do is dig _more_. And you dig. And you dig. And you dig — until it’s no longer just a hole, but your own grave.

Finding herself in a hole of her own doing, Clarke can’t help but dig _more_. “I mean, I saw this hot, successful guy with a lesbian fiancée, so I thought it would be easy or fun or I don’t know, _something_ , to try and seduce him and see where that led.”

By now, Lexa looks utterly confused. “So you tried to seduce Nate just for the fun of it?”

“And easy money,” Clarke admits bashfully.

“But your job,” Lexa presses. “You slept with people for money.”

“Well— yeah, sort of. Not all the time. Only sometimes, mostly I just seduced them, but— yeah,” she sighs.

Lexa nods in understanding. Next the brunette treads carefully, gently. “So you were a prostitute.”

Clarke doesn’t think her eyes have ever opened so wide. “No!” After the initial reaction, however, thoughts come to her more clearly. “I mean, I guess I sort of am. Not your typical prostitute, but… I guess what I used to do, at least when I couldn’t help it, does classify me as one,” she admits, eyes cast down.

Silence stretches between them, impossible to read. Clarke regrets lying once again, but now she can’t bring herself to take it back. What is done is done. At least half of the truth has come out. Besides, despite the omissions, she did tell Lexa about her job and that she had ulterior motives when first trying to seduce Miller. She just can’t stomach risking Lexa thinking that their relationship, their connection — thoroughly unplanned and at the time inconvenient — has ever simply been a matter of work. No. It was a wrench in her plans at first, then a beautiful escape, and finally the beautiful new start Clarke is not sure she will ever deserve. But nothing regarding Lexa has ever been about work.

Still, she decides to throw a bone, useless as it may be. “By the way, I’d look into Azgeda in I were you. I spoke to Nia at the gala and saw her family,” she lies harmlessly. “Those guys don’t exactly scream trustworthy.”

Lexa regards her thoughtfully for several seconds, as though searching her soul, until a miniscule smile pulls at a corner of her mouth. “Duly noted.”

Lexa turns to look at the wall again. Silence.

“What made you change your mind and let me tell you?”

There is a long pause before Lexa finally settles on a response. “I should have known that no one can stop Clarke Griffin from doing what she wants.” Though her expression is serious, her tone is amused. “You will just find another way, and then another, and another, until you succeed.” This pause lasts only a beat. “Even if you have to sacrifice some things along the way.”

“What is there to sacrifice?” Clarke frowns.

This time, Lexa meets her gaze. “I don’t know — and I would rather not help you find out.”

Clarke can only nod and join Lexa in her appreciation of the blank wall. Moments later, nevertheless, a new question arises.

“Do you forgive me?”

Lexa turns to her, brow furrowed. “There is nothing to forgive, Clarke. It was a job, like any other.

Clarke hums. The new silence stretches for almost as long as the first one.

“Does it bother you?”

“Does it bother me that you slept with other people for money? No. Prostitution is the oldest profession in History. If you have a choice and the opportunity to do it with dignity, then I see no shame in it,” Lexa claims stoically. “Does it bother me that you slept with other people? Well,” she smiles that small, sheepish smile Clarke adores, “I _am_ the jealous type.” Lexa swallows. “Still, I assume you used protection,” Clarke nods in confirmation, “and I know you are clean, since we both got tested shortly after our first time. So while it does make me want to stab everyone who has shared your bed—“

“It wasn’t _that_ many people,” Clarke argues.

“—I cannot really say that it _bothers_ me to know that there have been such persons. I might speak like an old-fashioned lady, but I am not one,” Lexa smirks.

Clarke throws her arms around Lexa’s waist, burrowing into her comforting warmth. “You are the most amazing person on Earth.”

Lexa’s hand comes up to thread fingers through her hair, their gentleness a soothing caress. “I am not a saint, Clarke,” the brunette whispers.

Clarke nods. “I know. But you _are_ a good person.” When Lexa shrugs, she draws back slightly, brushing her nose against a high-placed cheek. “Would you… Would you have done what I did — seduce Miller like I did — for work?”

Lexa purses her lips and seems to seriously consider the question.

“Yes,” she finally answers pensively. “As a leader, I always dote on my employees. I might not know everyone’s names, but I do know everyone’s _needs_. And what they need is money, health, and stability. Health I cannot give them, but the other two, I have the responsibility to provide. There is nothing I like more than helping my employees give their families everything they need and more, and I will do whatever it takes to assure that. Their best is always my first concern,” Lexa emphasises, and the way her forest green eyes bore into Clarke’s leaves no room for doubt. “Even if I sometimes have to cross a line.”

Understanding washes over Clarke and she feels a weight be lifted off her chest. “So… you would do what I did, even more, if that was the best for those that depend on you?”

Lexa nods solemnly, her gaze locking with Clarke’s for a second and then shifting back to the wall.

“It is no more than what you do for your friends.”

“Not anymore,” Clarke mutters regretfully.

Lexa’s hand is quick to hold hers and squeeze it. “You just do it differently now,” the CEO reassures her, eyes on hers, though Clarke can’t shake her doubts. “That fact does not change that everyone in your friend group looks up to you.”

“Not anymore,” she sighs. Every time Clarke thinks of Bellamy and Jasper, her heart aches. It’s not that she considers herself necessarily to blame for their current situation, but she can’t help thinking that she could — should — have done more. Better. She should have warned them, given them time to find other prospects. She should have previously reminded them that their business could never be a permanent thing, that a seductress’s job is as vulnerable to ageing as an actress’s. She should have helped them — she should have helped them write up a CV, find a job, she should have given them advice. Whatever she could have done; she should have done _better_. “I haven’t talked to Jasper and Bellamy again.”

Lexa regards her with intensity reserved only for the most urgent moments, jaw slightly clenched, but the ghost of a smirk belies her harshness. “Their loss.”

How is this woman even real? Lexa is not perfect, Clarke has no illusions about such thing, and her concept of morality is warped to fit a specific goal, but in the end, it all comes down to humbling humility and overwhelming selflessness that drive Lexa to do what's best for all that follow her. She has the heart of a fearless warrior and the mind of a visionary leader, yet manages to be a complete dork in intimacy as well as a gentle lover. Lexa might not be perfect, but she is everything.

Clarke wants to give her everything in return.

As their gazes meet, searching, colourful, intense, sky dripping onto green treetops and foliage melting into clouds; Clarke cannot wait another second before clashing their lips together. Lexa’s lips are soft pillows of comfort and reassurance and Clarke finds and drowns in them the love she is still unable to profess out loud.

Her hands find purchase in Lexa’s neck, wrapped gently around it, thumbs caressing the lines of a sharp jaw, as long fingers tug at her own hips, pulling her closer. Clarke’s hands travel down and start opening Lexa’s shirt, button upon button popping out of its case, then get rid of her bra, leaving bare the expanse of the brunette’s tanned chest.

"What are you doing, Clarke?" her lover asks breathlessly, much too busy kissing the blonde to catch her breath.

Clarke pushes Lexa down onto the bed and straddles the brunette’s hips. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Clarke starts kissing down Lexa's front, first in the valley between her breasts, then her taut stomach. She peppers open-mouthed kisses down the CEO’s abdomen and hears her breath quicken.

"We're in a hotel, my employees are in the adjacent rooms."

"So?" Clarke replies with a cheeky grin and a perked eyebrow.

Lexa does not respond right away. Taking the silence as a victory, Clarke takes off Lexa’s pants (with the owner’s not-so-reluctant help) and her lips move to the inside of the brunette's thighs, kissing and nibbling, then soothing the blemished skin with her tongue. Clarke sucks especially hard on a spot just below Lexa's centre and the brunette gasps.

"The walls are paper thin, Clarke!" Lexa whines.

"Well I guess you'll have to be quiet then," Clarke speaks innocently, causing Lexa to squirm beneath her.

Clarke takes the chance to press two fingers flat against the fabric of Lexa's panties, feeling the brunette's arousal through the garment. Lexa can't keep a gasp in.

"Fuck," Clarke breathes out hoarsely. "You're so wet already."

This draws a whimper from Lexa, who has to bring a fist to her mouth, biting down on the knuckles to muffle her pleasure. Clarke feels unbearable heat pool between her own legs at the sight.

"I told you to be quiet," she chides as she starts taking Lexa's panties off.

The brunette rolls her eyes with annoyance but still lifts her hips off the bed to help the underwear down her legs.

"And I told you this was a bad idea," Lexa shoots back, yet makes no move to end it.

Clarke puts on her brightest grin and dips her head back between Lexa's thighs, lapping her tongue over the brunette's folds.

Lexa moans loudly, seemingly unable to contain her reactions.

Clarke raises chastising eyebrows, before looking back to Lexa's centre and pressing her tongue against her clit.

Lexa's moan comes muffled this time, and when Clarke looks back at her, the brunette has a pillow on her face.

Clarke can't help but laugh at the hilarious image: Lexa, sprawled naked across the bed, legs open, and arms pressing a pillow onto her own face like her life depends on it. A familiar warmth spreads from Clarke's chest and she brings her lips to the inside of Lexa's thigh, leaving a short trail of soft, loving kisses up the smooth tanned skin.

A series of muffled groans comes from under the pillow.

"You know, the pillow kind of takes the sexiness out of it," Clarke says with a chuckle.

Lexa is fast to give her an answer that the pillow renders incomprehensible.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Clarke teases further.

Finally Lexa lifts the pillow off her face. "I said it's your fau—" her protest turns into a cry of pleasure when Clarke pushes two fingers into her centre without warning.

"Oh my God Lexa are you okay?" Clarke yells comically, making sure she's heard outside their room. "I told you to be careful with the furniture!"

Lexa lifts her head off the bed to glare at her.

"What?" the blonde asks with raised eyebrows and a smirk. "Just doing some damage control here."

Lexa's head drops again once Clarke starts moving her fingers inside, setting a pace of careful, slow thrusts.

"Is this okay?" Clarke asks, her low voice coated in concern.

"Yes," Lexa rasps breathlessly as her hips buck against Clarke's hand. "Oh God, yes."

Clarke really wants to smirk, but her lips end up forming a dopey, awestruck grin as she watches this beautiful, wonderful woman writhe at her hands.

“You know,” she says, needing to be serious. “All you have to do is say the word and I will stop. I would never— nothing turns me on more than knowing that I have your consent.”

Lexa raises her eyes and she looks so innocent, so small, so vulnerable; so far from the fierce, fearless, ruthless leader Clarke knows her to be. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Clarke’s grin is so wide it hurts. Her fingers, spurred on by her lover’s words, start moving faster. Lexa is no longer able to control her reactions.

Clarke crawls up Lexa's body, leaving her fingers in the brunette, not even daring still them, and captures her moans in the net of a kiss.

When their lips part, Lexa is squirming more intensely, and Clarke is quick to return to her prior position between the brunette's legs. As her fingers continue pumping into Lexa, Clarke encases the brunette's clit between her lips, sucking on it lightly. Lexa moans loudly, which drives Clarke to repeat her ministration, coaxing a whimper from her lover's lips this time. Clarke swirls her tongue around the clit, never touching it. Lexa's hips buck into her mouth with a long groan, drawing an approving hum from Clarke's chest.

The blonde's tongue interrupts its circles to brush ever so slightly over Lexa's clit, and by now the brunette is a whimpering, moaning, groaning, and gasping mess, rolling her hips against Clarke's hand and mouth, hoping to get more friction, as a string of expletives and Clarke's name are released from formerly sealed lips.

Clarke ups the pace within Lexa's velvety walls and starts thrusting harder and deeper. Her teeth graze the brunette's clit, eliciting a loud gasp, and soon Lexa's hips are bucking and rolling aimlessly, fucking Clarke’s face with abandon, desperate to tumble over the edge.

Clarke sucks at her clit once more, and then leaves a barely there kiss on it — that's what does it. Lexa's muscles tense, her hips jerk, then her mouth falls open as her eyes roll to the back of her head, and a second later, a long, silent, desperate moan is tearing through her, walls clenching and fluttering around Clarke's fingers as her body shudders uncontrollably.

Clarke's fingers still, but her tongue keeps stroking Lexa's clit as she helps her lover through her orgasm and down from it, back to the world of the living. Once Lexa's breathing returns to normal — or as normal as possible right after flesh-tearing ecstasy, Clarke removes her fingers and peppers sweet butterfly kisses along the insides of Lexa's thighs.

Her fingers are still coated in Lexa's arousal, so she licks them clean, returning her eyes to the brunette's, who watches keenly. Clarke hoists herself up, hovering over Lexa with an arm on either side of her head, and joins their lips in a slow, loving kiss. Lexa's throat vibrates with a purr at the taste of herself in Clarke's lips, and the blonde can't contain a hum of agreement. Lexa does taste wonderfully.

Moments later, as their lips part, Clarke falls on the mattress beside Lexa, leg slung over the brunette's thighs and arm draped over her torso, her elbow resting on elegant abs and her index finger tracing lazy patterns just above the valley between Lexa's breasts.

Clarke can feel that her lover's breathing is still erratic, but it steadies gradually as the minutes stroll by.

Lexa turns her head to look at Clarke and smiles that cute lopsided smile that turns Clarke’s insides into mush. "I believe it is your turn," Lexa almost whispers, her voice steady and soft.

Clarke rests her right elbow on the bed and props her head on her closed fist, then shakes it. "I'm happy with just giving you pleasure," she replies with a sweet smile.

"You can't expect me not to return the favour, Clarke," Lexa responds gravely, though the blonde knows all too well that she is fighting off a smile.

"That or you don't want your employees to know that their scary, commanding boss is a big, submissive bottom in the bedroom," Clarke quips with a smirk, but it does not get a reaction out of Lexa.

Instead, the brunette's hand sits on Clarke's waist and rolls the blonde to her side, their bodies now facing each other fully. Plump lips lure Clarke's into a short and chaste kiss.

Lexa's hands travels down from Clarke's waist to between their bodies, and deft fingers find their way to the blonde's wet centre.

Lexa gasps. "And I thought I was wet before," she comments breathlessly.

Clarke’s eyes twinkle with mischief and anticipation. "Watching you squirm and moan my name may have had an effect on me."

 

* * *

 

They have long woken up, but their bodies are still pressed together, legs tangled, arms wrapped around waists, foreheads resting together, and big smiles on their faces. Gentle pecks draw pink hues on cheeks, sweet words travel from lips to lips, and light, intimate laughs and chuckles are exchanged, one of Lexa’s fingers lightly bopping Clarke’s nose and tracing the contours of her face.

“Turn around,” Clarke husks, her voice clearly not designed for mornings. Or maybe the exact opposite, since Lexa shivers the moment she hears it. Lexa raises no eyebrow, asks no question. She just complies, turning away from Clarke. “On your chest.” Lexa does as told and rolls to lie on her chest, burying her face her arms. “This is a game I used to play with my dad,” Clarke tells her as her fingers start tracing the lines of Lexa’s tattoo.

“Not naked, I hope.”

The light quip is answered with a playful swat to Lexa’s lower back. “Idiot.” Yet Clarke’s smile is wider than ever. “I’m going to draw words on your back. You gotta guess what I’m saying.”

“I ought to do what you say, for denying Clarke Griffin what she wants is like asking America to start eating healthy,” Lexa remarks with a smirk.

“It ain’t gonna happen,” Clarke smirks. “Seems like you found a sense of humour.”

Lexa turns slightly to catch Clarke’s lips in a light kiss. “It tends to come out when I’m happy.”

Clarke can only describe what she feels as elation. When Lexa pulls away, she chases full lips for a few more kisses. They’re in heaven.

“Ok back to the plan,” she states once they finally come up for air. “Back to the game I used to play with my dad. With clothes on,” she adds before Lexa can make another droll remark.

Lexa nods and buries her head in her arms again, waiting for Clarke to start.

“First ones are easy,” Clarke explains, placing a kiss on the expanse of Lexa’s back. “You’ll get the hang of it quickly.”

At Lexa’s consenting hum, Clarke starts writing on tanned skin, letter by letter.

“D… O,” Lexa guesses as the words start taking shape upon her skin. “R… K. Dork? Very funny, Clarke, and then I am the one with the newfound sense of humour.”

Clarke’s laugh dissolves into more writing. “Guess this one.”

Lexa names the letters as they are drawn on her kin. “Dramatic hoe? What does that mean, Clarke?”

“It means you have a flare for the dramatic,” Clarke laughs and dodges her lover’s sloppy shove. “Just some more, come on.”

After a ‘Lextra’ (which took several minutes to explain), an ‘adorable’ (which drew a whine from its target), a ‘confused puppy’ (which was met with a huff), a ‘badass commander’ (Lexa didn’t react to this, but Clarke knows she was just busy trying to hide a smug smirk), and a ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’, Lexa is quick to guess ‘heart eyes’.

“That is not an actual expression.”

“Think of the way you look at me, or the way I look at you.”

In spite of it being hidden, Clarke can _see_ Lexa’s confused frown. Adorable, indeed. “Is there a specific way to look at people you care about?” Clarke can’t hold back an exasperated groan.

“Yes, Lexa. There is. Now shut up, it’s time for the last one.”

Lexa, like the amazing girlfriend (lover!) she is, obeys and buries her head in her arms again, diligently waiting for Clarke to scribble the next words on her skin. Clarke takes a few seconds before starting, trying to keep her hands from trembling. This one makes her nervous.

Once again, Lexa guesses each letter aloud. “I…” One word. “L… U… V…” Two. “U. Iluvu,” the brunette frowns thoughtfully. “I luvu? I luv u? I lov—“

There is a stunned silence.

Lexa leans back, propped on her elbows, to stare at Clarke, wide emerald eyes filled with wonder. “You love me?” It’s uttered in a whisper, in disbelief, like the idea of Clarke loving this perfect, selfless, magnificent creature is entirely outlandish.

Clarke can only nod. Bashful, sheepish, fearful, waiting.

There is a battle in Lexa’s eyes, Clarke can see it. Like she is debating whether to accept it or reciprocate or whether it is true or whether she loves Clarke back, she doesn’t know. She can’t read Lexa’s mind. She’s both frustrated by it and thoroughly glad.

Lexa’s hand envelop hers, its warmth sending comforting waves all over Clarke’s body. Her eyes are still wide, awe clear as water in them. “Say it,” Lexa pleads, still in a frightened and hesitant whisper, as though Clarke’s voice is the only key that can shut every doubt out.

Clarke knows nothing but three words. “I love you.”

Lexa nods, entirely too dazed, until a smile blossoms on her lips and she snakes an arm around Clarke’s waist, pulling the blonde onto the bed on her back. Lexa hovers above her, silky chestnut curls a wall that shields them from reality itself. Her smile is a toothy one, soft and happy, beautiful crinkles in the corners of her eyes, and Clarke knows the words even before they are spoken.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell, Lexa?
> 
> The bottom thing was just Clarke teasing. They're both tops and bottoms, depending on the situation. Non-negotiable :p
> 
> Don't berate Clarke too much. She's trying. Besides... You know what's coming in the next chapter, don't you?


	17. "fuck"

Clarke and Lexa get off the plane some days later with wide smiles, bliss written on their faces for all to see. Knowing she loves Lexa and Lexa loves her too has Clarke feeling unstoppable. Undefeatable. Invincible.

"I have to go handle some things at the office, but then I'll stop by your place. Is that okay?" Lexa asks as they reach the gates.

"Sure, babe," Clarke reassures with a blinding grin. "Go be a badass CEO, do your thing. But then return to me."

They part with only the promise of a kiss (they are in public after all) and Lexa goes ahead with her employees. Clarke stays there for a while, admittedly in the exact same spot, daydreaming about just how great her life is right now.

"Home wrecking whore."

It takes Clarke a moment to realise that the words are directed at her. When she finds their sender, the man levels her with a disdainful glower and spits on her shoes.

"Excuse me sir, did I do something to offend you?"

He scoffs like she has the obligation to know what he's on about. "My brother's marriage was ruined by a bitch like you."

Clarke can only stare in bewilderment. Home wrecker? Marriage? What the—

_Fuck._

She runs for the closest newsstand, which suddenly appears to be a non-existent thing in this goddamned airport. She finally finds one and jogs up to it with urgency. Then she sees it and freezes.

 

ALEXANDRIA WOODS AND HER LESBIAN AFFAIR

ALEXANDRIA WOODS TURNS GAY!

BEST FRIEND... WITH BENEFITS. ALEXANDRIA CHEATS ON NATHAN WITH ANOTHER WOMAN

NATHAN BREAKS ENGAGEMENT: ALEXANDRIA'S LESBIAN AFFAIR EXPOSED!

SODOMIC FIANCÉE CHEATS ON NATHAN MILLER

THE GAYS STRIKE AGAIN: LESBIAN CONVERTS NATHAN MILLER'S FIANCÉE

LESBIAN AFFAIR EXPOSED: THE RISE AND FALL OF ALEXANDRIA WOODS

HAROLD, THEY'RE LESBIANS! ALEXANDRIA CHEATS ON NATHAN WITH BEST FRIEND

 

"Oh no." Clarke feels a sob tear through her body, knowing there is no coming back from this. She should have told Lexa the whole truth. She should have avoided the avalanche of disaster that is certain to come now, what with her and Lexa's pictures in every cover, painting a rather realistic picture of their relationship. "No, no, no, no, no."

Octavia. She needs to call Octavia. When she fishes it out of her pocket, the phone is off. She turns it on in a hurry, desperate to get an inkling of what the hell is going on.

Ten missed calls from Octavia Blake. Call back.

 _"Clarke!"_ comes the immediate response. _"Oh my god, I've been trying to reach you for hours!"_

"I've seen it, O!" Clarke growls. "What the hell were you thinking?"

_"Clarke it wasn't me! I had no idea, you have to believe me."_

Clarke can't, not right now, but who is she to decide who to believe in. "Then who is it?"

_"A month ago Bell and I had a meeting with this Azgeda hotshot, some Tight Ass guy, and he tried to hire us to prove that Lexa was having an affair. We said no, but—"_

"Titus tried to hire you and you didn't think to tell me?" Clarke exclaims, feeling her heart beating out of her chest, in the worst way possible. "What the fuck, Octavia?!"

 _"I know! I know, I know, I'm so sorry, Clarke."_ There are sobs coming from the other side of the line and she can’t help but believe her friend. _"It just... Just never occurred to me that it could be important, we'd said no, case closed. And it was stupid, so dumb and stupid, I know, but you have to believe me, Clarke, you have t—"_

"I do," she cuts off. "Now tell me it wasn't who I think it was."

The defeated sigh that reaches her is enough of an answer. _"It was Bell and Jasper. They used Monty's new app."_

Clarke doesn't waste another word on the phone call. She hangs up and runs out of the airport, desperate to make amends.

Just before she can leave the dreadful place, however, her phone rings again.

"What?" she snaps into it.

_"Whoa, easy there Griffin."_

"Raven," she breathes. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't have much time."

_"Well you should have time for me, because Monty and I just took down every single website that features your nifty little story."_

Clarke's breath of relief is one that makes her chest feel hollow. She exits the airport and slides down one of its walls just outside the door.

"Thank you. Thank you so much, Raven, thank you."

 _"I'm awesome, I know,"_ Raven floats good-naturedly, but then her voice turns serious again _. "Now, you'll want to hear this. It wasn't just the magazines. A sound recording was released... It's not pretty. It's you and Lexa doing the do — hot by the way — and it's basically porn."_

"Oh god."

_"I know. But hey, like I said, it's down. No one has access to it anymore."_

"You're a lifesaver, Reyes," Clarke breathes out, unable to keep the sobs currently wracking her body at bay.

_"I know. But all right, here's my piece of advice. Go see the assholes first. Leave your girl for later. Meanwhile, I'll unearth all the dirt in the world on that Tight Ass fella."_

"What? No, Raven. I have to go talk to Lexa."

_"Just give her some time to react, Clarkey. Let her break some vases, cut some heads off. Whatever hot CEO’s do to release their anger. Bellamy and Jasper though, they need a reality check. And with that, I mean a well placed punch to their stupid noses."_

"I know," Clarke chuckles sadly. “Titus is Lexa’s hangman so you should be able to find some skeletons.” Silence falls over them for a while. "How could they?"

A sigh. _"They're blind. Resentment and despair can be pretty thick blindfolds."_

She hums in agreement. However, the question that truly haunts her is one she cannot possibly find an answer to — or would really rather not. "Do you think she will forgive me?"

This time, silence stretches on for longer. _"I think you can only hope that she forgives you if you open yourself to the possibility of forgiving them."_

"I can't forgive them, Rae."

_"I'm not telling you to. I'm telling you to consider it. Maybe then she'll consider it too."_

 

* * *

 

When Clarke texted Bellamy, she never expected him to respond so quickly. Yet here he is now, right in front of her, in their old HQ, a smile on his face like he didn’t just help her ruin her own life.

“You called, Princess?”

She can’t prevent her eyes from rolling. There is that name again. She hates that name. “Yes. What the hell is wrong with you, Bellamy?”

He frowns genuinely. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what the hell were you thinking intruding in my intimacy — and Lexa’s — and outing her for the whole world to scorn? What the hell were you thinking hacking into _my_ phone, after I’ve so clearly quit our business, and taking photos and— and _audio_ of our intimacy and selling it to the magazines?!”

He raises his arms in surrender, a gesture for her to calm down. Oh, she is _not_ calming down.

“Look,” he says with a sigh, like he’s doing her a favour. “I was just helping you, okay? Lexa is not someone you want to hang out with.”

She’s sure that her face is nothing but a big question mark. “What?”

“She’s not like us, Clarke,” he insists. “She’s not like you and me. Those people… They cheat, they lie, they step on everyone to get what they want.”

“Isn’t that what we used to do?” she laughs mirthlessly. “What you and Jasper just did?”

He shakes his head, unwilling to acknowledge the truth in her words. “No. No, that was different. We’re surviving, Princess. And what we did was to save you from _her_.”

“I don’t _need_ saving, Bellamy!”

This seems to get to him. His expression turns harsher, his lips pressed in a tight line, nostrils flaring. “You _think_ you don’t need saving, but you do,” he grits out. “I’ve always done what’s best for us and now I’m doing what’s best for you, even if you can’t see it. I told you I’d be here for you. Here I am, Clarke. Thinking for you, since you can’t seem to do it for yourself.”

“You’re thinking for me?” she repeats in utter disbelief. Has he gone completely crazy? “You always think with your heart, or... Or your feet. You make stupid, reckless decisions and then leave it to everyone else to clean up the mess!"

He smiles, that look that made her uncomfortable some time ago in his eyes again. “That's why the king needs his princess, to be able to lead well.”

Then it hits her. Her eyes widen in horror. Lexa was right. But… How? "I thought you were into Raven."

“What? No. Fine.” His chuckle, almost mocking, is the confirmation to her sudden suspicion and anger starts building up within her. Her fists ball at her sides. “We slept together once or twice, but it's always been you, Clarke."

All the anger she feels is channelled into a forceful shove that sends him several steps backwards. "You asshole, she fell in love with you!"

Bellamy’s shock is clear on his face, but Clarke is not backing down now. "That's not my fault!"

"But it is your fault that you let her," she growls.

"Come on, Clarke. Be honest for a moment. Raven is a wonderful woman, but between her and you..."

"What?" she snaps.

"You're you. Of course I chose you. You can't tell me that you wouldn't do the same thing."

No. He has no right. Raven is a great person, a great woman, Clarke’s role model. Raven is Raven and there is seriously no one as great, as smart, as utterly brilliant and bright and shining as her. She is Clarke’s best friend and if there is one thing Clarke knows for sure, is that Raven doesn’t deserve ever being second place. Raven was made for the podiums, for the trophies, for the awards; for the love of the crowd and her friends and everyone around her. Raven was made to be loved and if this piece of shit can’t see that, then he certainly doesn’t deserve her. Clarke can’t love her like she loves Lexa, but she will make damn sure that Raven feels loved in every other way. And nothing — _nothing_ — Bellamy says can take away from the fact that Raven deserves the world.

"Wrong,” she states, voice oddly under control. “I would _always_ pick her first."

He smiles like he’s privy to some truth she doesn’t know. "It's okay Clarke, I can wait. We're still in the middle of our story and I know how it ends. It's like those love triangles in the movies, the guy always gets the girl."

"This is _not_ a love triangle, Bellamy! There is no chance that you and I will ever be together. I love Lexa,” a shove. “She's the one for me, the only one. She's my soulmate,” another shove, “and if I have a say in it, you can bet she's also the one I'll spend the rest of my life with,” the final shove. “So deal with that."

“Don’t blame me for losing her, Clarke,” he barks back. “You lost her the moment you decided to pursue her. And once you realise that, you’ll come running back to me.”

She walks up to him, all frowning eyebrows and lips, her expression spiteful and angry. She lets him have a moment to look at her expectantly, before she finally spits her final words. “Like hell I will.”

With that, she whirls around and storms out.

 

* * *

 

Her “talk” with Jasper is a short affair.

**Clarke destroyer of dreams: Jasper, can we please talk?**

**Jasper: I have nothing to say to you, bitch.**

 

* * *

 

It surprises Clarke that Lexa told her assistants and receptionists to let her in after all that has happened. Still, she’s glad that she will be given a chance to explain. Or apologise. A lot.

Clarke is fully ready to grovel and do everything in her power to get Lexa back. She doesn’t _need_ Lexa to be happy, but she really wants to have the brunette in her life, to love and cherish and adore. She wants to give everything — truth, flaws, love — to the person who has had no reservation in giving her everything in return. She loves Lexa. Lexa loves her. The foundation for forgiveness and reconciliation is there, now she has to win Lexa’s trust back.

She knows it will be hard, very hard; Lexa is not one to forgive easily. Still, what’s worth in life that you don’t have to fight for?

Clarke gets to the desk outside Lexa’s office and is met with a very stoic, very tall Gustus. He stares her down and it’s all that she can do not to shrink under his piercing gaze.

“Miss Woods is waiting for you.”

She’s been here countless times; the walk to Lexa’s office is no longer than before, the walls are still clean and the path unimpeded. Yet it feels like eight hundred leagues on the Amazon now that she dreads whatever is on the other side of the door.

It’s Lexa. Just Lexa. But it’s also so much more.

She knocks on the door like a hit too strong will wake up some beast. When an authoritative ‘come in’ sounds from the inside, she turns the knob and pushes the door open, entering Lexa’s office.

Lexa is standing behind her desk, poise impeccable and hands clasped behind her back, her chin raised with a blank expression.

“Sit down.” Her voice is calm, unreadable.

Clarke walks over to the desk and winces at the sight. All the magazines and newspapers she saw earlier are spread on the wooden top, turned to her, each title a more painful read. She sits down and looks up at Lexa, whose expression remains indecipherable.

“I lied to you,” Clarke finally admits, head hanging low.

“I know.” Lexa’s voice is firm, stoic, though oddly gentle. Nonetheless, Clarke doesn’t dare look up.

“I lied to you about my job, about myself, I lied to you about everything.”

“I know.”

The room is completely silent but for their voices, and the tension pressing down on them, making Clarke shrink in her chair, is absolutely overwhelming. She doesn’t know whether to start unravelling her whole web of lies or let Lexa say something. In the end, the brunette remains quiet, so Clarke takes that as her cue.

“My friends and I had a business. We… At first it started as a way to help people prove that their partners were cheating on them. We actually _helped_ people. I remember there was this woman who would have lost everything and thanks to us, she got half of her husband’s money. I like to think we saved her,” she smiles sadly. “Anyway, it was good at first. I would kiss some random guy or girl and we would take some pictures and that would be it. If _really_ necessary, I would sleep with them, but that was rare. We were proud of our work then, and we loved doing it.

“But then came every college student’s issue in America: money. Debts. Student loans. Growing up. We all loved what we were doing and after our first paycheck, we realised that if we wanted to do it seriously and dedicate ourselves to it for real, we had to go pro,” Clarke explains. “The problem was… Going pro complicated everything. I mean, it got easier, we were actually doing what we loved for money, but every line — every moral, ethical line — was blurred. We started stealing company secrets and seducing people for all the wrong reasons. However, we were in so deep already that any notion of our downfall totally escaped our grasp.

“Fast-forward to some years later, when we’re all pretty well-off in life, and an Azgeda representative, this Echo… something, comes to us with a surreal offer. 200 thousand dollars just for me, something around a million total, to ruin this young it-couple, Alexandria Woods and Nathan Miller,” at long last she admits and can’t help but bow her head in shame. “It was supposed to be an easy job. Seduce guy, take some pictures, hand them to magazines, done. Like I said, easy job. It turned out to be anything but,” she chuckles ruefully.

“Nathan wouldn’t be taken by absolutely anything I did and— I started falling for you, Lexa.” She finally chances a glance at Lexa and the brunette still hasn’t moved an inch or changed her expression. With a defeated sigh, Clarke goes on. “We soon realised that Nate is gay, and so are you, and we had a strict no outing policy. That’s when I stopped. We all did. This job helped me realised that the work we were doing was no longer good, so I quit. I quit to be with you.

“Lexa, this,” Clarke gestures at the magazines. “Your outing, all these pictures and news, weren’t me. It was Jasper and Bellamy, because they were mad that I left them without warning. Still, that’s not really going to redeem me for all the lies and the secrets,” she sighs. “But that’s me. I used to break couples up for money and manipulated you in the beginning in order to get to Nate. I was hired by Azgeda to seduce your fake fiancé.”

“I know.” Clarke lifts her gaze in confusion, meeting Lexa’s, which is now tinged with a myriad of emotions; from pain, to anger, from love, to resentment, from hurt… to regret. “I have known all along.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shock! Anger! Surprise! I knew it's! All your thoughts!!! Leave them all in the comments :D
> 
> So! The big reveal. I hope some of Lexa's previous actions start making sense. They certainly will once she explains everything in the next chapter, which should be up by next week. You have no idea how nerve-wrecking it has been to hold on to this secret for seventeen. Fucking. Chapters xD
> 
> Now I want to get all mushy here for a second. A THOUSAND COMMENTS?! Holy shit!!! Over three thousand kudos, over 600 bookmarks, and over 60 thousand hits?! Wow guys. I'm floored. Thank you so much. Thank you so very much. This little story would be nothing without you. Thank you, you're the fuel to my little writing engine <3 seriously, thank you. You guys motivate me to write every day and make my stories better and better. All hail Clexa <3


	18. "I have known all along"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot is explained. They say some hurtful things, but I want to remind you that they're adults. And adults don't deal with problems the way teenagers do. So adult Clarke won't react exactly the same way 18yo Clarke would have.
> 
> Please don't hate Lexa. She means well. Also, please don't hate Clarke. She's confused.
> 
> Oh and uhm... spoilers from Now You See Me, I guess xD
> 
> Unbeta'd as always.

Clarke chokes on air, or maybe her tongue. "Y—you knew?"

There are moments in life when it seems to resemble fiction more than reality. She has seen the movies, she's seen them all: the con artists, the archaeologists, the super spies, the magicians. At some point in their lives, the players get played. The conners get conned; the traitor betrays in tandem; the valuable asset reveals herself to be an undercover agent; the detective turns out to be the master magician.

It's all happened on the screen or the pages of a book, but now... Now it's happening to Clarke. In real life. And there are no dark clouds or thunderstorm to accompany the revelation.

Lexa nods, slow, minute, careful. "I have known since the gala." Clarke doesn't say a thing, she can't; the rug has been swept off her feet and she no longer knows whether she is standing on solid ground or nothing at all. Lexa seems to get the message, for she lowers her gaze, arranges one of the magazines a bit, straightening it to be perfectly aligned with the others, clasps her hands back together behind her back, raises her chin. The walls are up again. "I never let anyone into my life without knowing exactly who they are, Clarke." It makes sense, of course it does, except it hasn't made sense until this very moment. "The moment I saw ou at the gala, I had Titus run a thorough background check on you. The earthquake was a happy coincidence, or maybe a trick by your friend Raven. Whatever its origin, it was the best thing that has ever happened to me, because it gave me the idea that started my plan."

Clarke still feels as lost as she did five minutes ago. "What plan?"

"You had an offer from Azgeda to break the engagement, Clarke. You tried to seduce Nate at first, but you saw through my... veneer right away. Yet you needed someone to seduce, to expose. I realised, then, that I could be that person," Lexa explains calmly. At Clarke's befuddled expression, she seems to decide to take a new route. She sighs, heavy with burden all of a sudden, eyes tired. It's a moment of vulnerability that ends all too quickly. "It was never my intention to hide who I am," Lexa admits frankly, sadly. "However, as the assumptions kept on gaining strength, lies piled on top of lies and soon I could not come out if I wanted to. I had been wanting to incorporate Skysafe Inc into Command for a long time and when I finally met Nate, we realised we had a lot in common. Most of all, the fact that we are both gay, but cannot come out. Hence the engagement. It was both strategic and an attempt at companionship," Lexa confesses, her voice quiet, eyes cast down. "With him by my side, as my friend and someone in the same situation... I didn't feel so alone."

Lexa is so honest, so open, so vulnerable; Clarke wants to run around the table and envelop this beautiful, brave woman in her arms, protect her from all harm. The ache in her heart, however, makes it impossible for Clarke to move.

"I never expected—" Lexa pauses, takes a breath, locks her gaze with Clarke's. "I never expected things to turn out as they did. All I wanted was a scandal, something that would, in the public's eye, force me out of the closet, somehow make me look like the victim, so that I would be able to turn the tables in my favour." Despite all her endeavours to grasp everything happening right now, Clarke continues to feel like she is way out of her depth. "I did not want to out Nate, so I set out to deviate your attention from him to myself. I needed you to seduce me instead. Not everything went according to plan," Lexa laments. "You did shift your focus to me, but you also gave up the job, therefore rendering half of my plan useless. You started ignoring me—"

"Oh my god," Clarke gasps. "That day you showed up at my apartment. When I was pretending to be sick." Lexa nods, probably already knowing what she meant. "I never even wondered how you knew where I lived." Lexa nods again, confirming her suspicions. Clarke can't help but bury her face in her hands. "Fuck," she breathes, all sound muffled.

"I gave you time and space to come clean," Lexa reveals, her voice more severe, "but you didn't. When it became clear that you wouldn't, either, I had to devise a new plan. One that could not have you telling me the truth, for I needed your full, unaware cooperation."

"That's not true," Clarke counters. "I tried to tell you the truth in the beginning, but you cut me off with some talk about not needing to know reasons." As she recalls the day Lexa visited and the brunette's words, righteous anger flares in her chest. "You never actually prompted me to fess up."

Lexa rolls her eyes, probably feeling just as righteous as Clarke. "I could not exactly force you to tell me the truth, Clarke. I had a role to uphold."

"Bullshit," she spits. Lexa's lips press into a thin line. "You could've drawn it from me if you wanted to, if you—" Then it dawns on Clarke just why. "You don't trust me," she says slowly, the realisation coming to her. She meets Lexa's glare with a flare of her own. "You say you love me, but you don't trust me!"

"It's not like you have given me a reason to, Clarke."

Silence. The fire surrounding them, heating their words up, spiking the tension, does not seem to subside. Clarke knows her scowl is mirrored in Lexa's. Then the brunette's expression softens.

"Ask me questions."

The funny, or maybe ironic, thing about this situation is that Clarke isn't sure that she wants to know just how deep Lexa's betrayal goes. Yet she's aware that if they are to ever have a chance at reconciliation, she has to know everything.

"Your marriage was delayed," she starts. "Was that some grand plan too?"

"Sort of," Lexa admits. "It was not simply a consequence of my plan. When I asked you for three more months, I needed us to stay together until after the incorporation of Skysafe. That, I knew, could only happen without an actual marriage if the wedding was delayed. For the wedding to be delayed, I needed a strong reason, which Nate gave me: his board members were intransigent as to the date of the deal — or so he says, because I know he could have swayed them if he really wanted."

"Why couldn't either of those things happen sooner?" Clarke counters.

"My board members wanted to do the integration after the wedding, whereas his wanted it before. We both wanted it to happen before the wedding, so we realised that for my coalition members to accede, we would have to schedule the deal for the day after the wedding and find a way for it, the wedding, to be unexpectedly postponed. If we could not please both the Greek and the Trojan, we would find a way for them to want the same thing." There is a small pause, one Clarke knows better than to breach. "Things only came to fruition after I introduced you to my family, however. Till then, the three months were simply a plight to win us as much time as possible. Besides," Lexa smiles softly, though tentatively, as though she doesn't know if she's allowed to smile at all, "any time with you that I could bargain would be a blessing."

"So the outing was planned," Clarke breathes, recalls, still thoroughly unsure of how to react to all of it. "Titus... He offered Octavia and Bellamy a deal. I thought he was a traitor, but it turns out he was—"

"I told you, Clarke," Lexa interrupts solemnly. "Titus would never plot behind my back." Clarke's eyes widen at the realisation that, in a way, Lexa played a part in turning her friends against her. Before she can voice her revolt, Lexa hastens to justify her actions. "We knew Bellamy and Jasper were unhappy. Investigation, Clarke," Lexa adds, anticipating the blonde's question. "We were aware of all that was going on with your group. All we had to do was give them extra motivation to go rogue. But please know, Clarke, that we never played a part in turning your friends against you. I would never do that to you," Lexa whispers earnestly, but it falls flat.

It falls flat, because despite her honesty, Lexa knows how bad Clarke feels about her friends, how (regardless of actual fault) she blames herself for all that has transpired between their group, how much of a wreck Clarke has been for it. It falls flat, because Clarke just got out of a horrible fight with Bellamy, where she had to defend herself, Raven, and  _Lexa_. It falls flat, because the path to hell is paved with good intentions. And Clarke and Lexa's intentions, as benign as they might have been — which is, in itself, deeply debatable — led to no less than a catastrophe.

The media disaster is the least of Clarke's worries. The real catastrophe — the one thing that rips her apart and tears at her seams and knocks her out and yanks her inside out and upside down and jerks her in all directions but the one she wants to go — Lexa's arms; the real catastrophe is their relationship. Their relationship, burning in a field of blood, may as well be buried six feet underground, for that is how perished and hopeless and lost it feels right now.

It dawns on Clarke, then, that Lexa’s intention, as well as hers, was never to tell the truth, try as they may have. It was never time, it was never right — it was simply never what they wanted. Each had her plan and followed through, until everything imploded and exploded and left them both to pick up the pieces of their own mistakes.

Clarke flinches at the thought. Are they salvageable anymore?

“Did you really ever want me to tell the truth?”

Lexa, eyes open and truthful, takes a long time to answer. “No.”

Another silence, nervous, tense, repenting.

Then it hits Clarke. “You got my voicemail.”

Lexa’s eyes widen, the image of guilt. Her lips press into a thin line and she suddenly looks small. “Yes.”

“How?” Clarke rasps, unable to even comprehend all that happened around her while she was blissfully unaware, thinking she was fooling Lexa and not the other way around.

"The power of suggestion," Lexa shrugs. "From the moment I decided that I wanted you not to tell me the truth, I realised that I also had to give you a way to do so, but without me having to hear directly about it. I started bringing up my voicemail in conversation at random times, very frequently. I would have us watch movies and TV shows where it was a prominent presence. I ingrained it in your mind as an outlet for your frustrations."

This makes Clarke's blood boil. Out of everything Lexa has told her, this was the worst. Not because of the lies, but the sheer manipulation behind it. Her jaw clenches, hands ball into fists, lips frown, and her brow is furrowed. "You know how much I suffered that day," she accuses, Lexa's desk being the only thing that stops her from reaching for Lexa. "You know how it wrecked me, how much I wanted to tell you the truth, how emotionally  _drained_ I was after that morning, when you dismissed me and my attempts at coming clean like it was a stupid, mindless whim, because 'oh, Clarke's suddenly grown a conscience'! You manipulated me like I meant nothing to you!" Lexa flinches visibly at her words, and Clarke can see the brunette wants to say something, but she doesn't let her. "I poured my heart into that stupid voicemail, hoping, praying that you would get it and understand me and forgive me, it destroyed me just to tell you everything so honestly. I told you I loved you in that voicemail! Do I really mean so little to you that you would pretend not to have gotten it and then have me tell you the truth again?"

"You did not tell me the whole truth," Lexa argues, but it's too feeble.

"I did in that fucking voicemail!" Clarke snaps. "I did and you pretended you never got it! Then I just couldn't— I didn't have the energy to do it all again. Call me a coward, Lexa, but you're a fucking hypocrite. And yes, I know I am too," she cuts the brunette off right away, "but at least I never dismissed your feelings like they meant nothing to me. I was a fucking wreck, but you acted like nothing happened! Tell me, Lexa, do you get off on other people's pain?" she snarls. "Did you touch yourself listening to that voicemail?" Lexa's eyes burn with a new intensity, nostrils flaring and jaw closed so tight it might snap. "Did you come on your own fingers when I told you you're my whole life? Or did you have _Titus_  do it for you?"

"Enough!"

Clarke shuts up immediately, taken aback by Lexa's growl. She can see tears forming in Lexa's eyes, threatening to spill, but she knows Lexa won't allow herself such weakness.

"I  _love_ you, Clarke! I am so deeply sorry for what I have done, and I don't expect you to forgive me any time soon, but do  _not_ act like it was all my fault. We both made mistakes, the same mistakes for that matter. Maybe mine were worse, maybe not, but I will not stand here and let you attack me for things you did too, just because you now feel entitled by my confessions. I would like to see you say those things to your friends," Lexa spits.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Clarke frowns.

"It means that Jasper and Bellamy are horrible people who fooled you and hurt you and never seem to give you a break, yet you still feel guilty for doing absolutely nothing to hurt them. But me," Lexa laughs bitterly. "God help me if I raise my voice or say something you don't like or cook the wrong meal!"

"That's not fair," Clarke grits.

Lexa raises her eyebrows, as if daring her to really mean what she just said. "Is it not?" the brunette's voice is now calm, controlled, her outburst long over. "Then how come they get away with torturing you for months, yet I get accused of getting off on your pain for doing half of what they did? In case you haven't registered, Clarke, I never wanted to hurt you. Our relationship was, unfortunately, collateral damage. Bellamy and Jasper? All they wanted was to see you suffer. So tell me, Clarke. Why?"

"Because I  _love_  you!" she exclaims. "I don't know, I just— it hurts more when it's you," she sobs, drained, unable to keep fighting. She can't do this anymore. She's just so exhausted.

Clarke drops to the chair behind her, elbow propped on the arm of it, fingers pressing into her forehead. It's not that she's giving up. She just needs rest, time, energy, something she can't quite put a name to. She's spent — both physically and emotionally. When she looks up at Lexa again, she sees how green eyes soften, how shoulders sag, how the ghost of a sigh leaves Lexa's lips.

In a couple of strides, Lexa is next to her, crouching by her chair, big jade eyes boring into Clarke's blue. "Remember that time we were watching Grace & Frankie and we talked about betrayals?" she asks softly, even tenderly, a hand coming to rest on Clarke’s knee.

"Yeah, the voicemail episode," the blonde chuckles ruefully.

Lexa's hint of a smile is a blessing. Green eyes lower for a moment, then return home — gazing into Clarke's. "For a very long time, I believed that my betrayal would not be personal. I believed that I was merely doing what was right for my company — my people. I have told you this, Clarke. Leading is both acting and reacting," she explains absentmindedly. "Every plan I lay out, rushed as it may sometimes forcibly be, has to take the next five, ten, twenty years into account. Yet as much as I would like to account for all variables from the beginning, life is unpredictable. A good leader is able to overcome adversities as well as prevent them. That was my only take on the situation until that day."

"You've said that already, like fifty times," Clarke complains lamely.

"Yes." Lexa pauses, a very small rueful smile on her lips. "That day changed everything for me. That day, I realised that despite all my efforts to keep this strictly impersonal, my betrayal was very much personal. And I said then, while doing what you have to do can be forgiven and forgotten, I would like to think that personal betrayals can eventually be forgiven too." Lexa's words are soft, hopeful, and Clarke can't help but feel her anger dissipate. "That day, I forgave whatever you may throw at me." Lexa swallows, throat bobbing anxiously. "I hope that you can find it in yourself to maybe, someday, forgive me too.”

Their eyes lock, intense as ever, and everything around them disappears. Lexa’s eyes are beautiful, truthful, expressive — her favourite thing in the world. As angry as Clarke is, she always finds in them a tether to reality, and to her unconditional love for the woman crouching in front of her: small, hopeful, and entirely open to Clarke’s scrutiny and spiteful words. Entirely open to chance.

So despite herself, and despite all the anger she felt just minutes ago, Clarke eyes the hand on her knee and covers it with her own. Long, gentle fingers entwine with hers and Clarke can’t help the sigh that leaves her lips, like she just crossed the most gruelling desert and at last found a glass of water to relief her parched mouth and body.

“I need… I need to go home. I need time and space,” Clarke whispers. “If it were ten years ago, I would hold the greatest of grudges and never talk to you again,” she chuckles. Lexa’s lips draw up a sheepish smile. “But I’m not eighteen anymore,” she shrugs. “I’m a grown up, and I will deal with this like a grown up, and to do that, I need to think. I don’t want to say something I might regret, or leave anything unsaid.”

Lexa nods. The silence stretches endlessly. Clarke starts idly playing with Lexa’s fingers, revelling in the feeling of her lover’s skin against hers once again, appreciating the way they bend and feel and weigh on her own fingers and palm.

"I want to be so angry at you," she confesses.

"You can be, Clarke. I would not judge you."

"But that's the thing, isn't it? I can't. I can't be angry at you for doing to me the exact same thing that I did to you,” she admits pensively, with only a hint of frustration. Then, "Was any of it real?"

"Every second of it." A pause. "Every word."

Clarke nods. "Me too."

None of them speak any further. Lexa breaks the silence:

"How do we..."

"I don't know. Is it even..."

"I don't know." Lexa looks down.

Another silence follows. Clarke breaks it:

"Would you be willing to...?"

Lexa looks up, a gaze so intense, so full of hope, so pure and so awestruck, it causes Clarke’s heart to finally start beating again. "Always."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movies referenced at the beginning: Focus, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., and Now You See Me.
> 
> If you have questions about Lexa's plan and shit, don't hesitate to ask. I tried talking about (mostly) everything (some things will be addressed in the next chapter), but some things might have escaped me. So if you ask me, you're actually helping me!
> 
> Finally, let me be a ball of sap again: way over 1000 comments. HOLY SHIT. Thank you <3 I hope many more follow, your feedback is my fuel, my motivation. Thank you.


	19. "always"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on "the break upper": LEXA KNEW ALL ALONG! She manipulated Clarke right back all while Clarke thought she was the one manipulating Lexa. I'd advise you to reread chapter 18 if you want to remember every detail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whomp here it is. In my defence, I've been working three jobs. It's been hard. I quit one of them today, so here's the celebratory chapter ;) my girlfriend beta'd like half of it but then I couldn't wait to put it out here so I forewent that step. Oops. I'm starting a new job in June, one that takes up a lot of time, so I'm aiming to finish this story before that or, at least, be almost done with it by the time I start and finish it shortly after. Point is, we've reached the final stretch and from here to the end will be just a few chapters. I'm aiming at 22 chapters overall, so three more I think. We'll see.
> 
> This chapter opens with an alternative POV. I think you'll like who it is ;)
> 
> As usual, I'll revise the chapter tomorrow morning for any assassinations of the English language lol. Till then, enjoy!

//

“This is a scandal my company will _not_ endorse!”

Lexa rolls her eyes, lips pressed together, regretting her decision to form a diplomatic board where her every decision would be scrutinised by those idiots. Of course she knows it was the right thing to do and the only way to make this coalition work, but in moments like this, she wishes she could be the vile tyrant so many people wrongly think her to be.

Instead of grabbing a sword she doesn’t have and piercing it through her fellow businessman Lexa takes a deep breath, exhales it harshly and raises her gaze to meet her counterpart’s. “Need I remind you, Mr Jefferson, that _your_ company is as much mine as it is yours, and you are contractually obliged to abide by this board’s — and ultimately my — plan to tackle the present situation?” He gulps and lowers his eye, submitting to her will.

Lexa is used to this; sitting at the head of a table as a dozen of old, fat, bigoted men and women trying to one-up and overpower her at every turn? She’s been doing it for years. It also helps that the number is not quite as round and Lexa has a few steady, ever-present allies among the board members. Two of them sit by her sides, shielding her from the stupidity of her subordinates.

“This is once again a case of our dear CEO trying to outshine the company in the press,” comes the sardonic voice of the Azgeda representative. “It is not enough that she already commands one of the most successful companies in the country, she has to make the covers of every magazine and newspaper in the world. Can you see, ladies and gentlemen, how _thirsty_ for stardom our CEO is? If she wants fame, she would be better off starring in movies, because Azgeda takes its role within Command very seriously and expects everyone else to do the same.”

“ _She_ has a name and you would do good to address her as such,” Indra growls lowly from her seat, though her expression remains impassively aggressive — or aggressively impassive, Lexa can’t decide which.

“Miss Woods’s youth and inventiveness were important to form Command, but the weight of responsibility has clearly gotten out of her hand. If _she_ does not have the maturity to lead Command anymore, Azgeda will happily step in.”

“Azgeda should respect the hierarchy it agreed to and let Miss Woods handle her _private_ life as she sees fit,” Anya intervenes, not nearly as collected as Indra.

“Azgeda will not respect those who do not respect it!” The representative shoots up and nerves get the best of everyone in the room. “The moment Miss Woods decided to make her so-called private life public, it became also of interest to Command and, by consequence, Azgeda. And the moment Miss Woods decided to take part in a _disgraceful_ media scandal, she involved all of us,” he gestures to everyone in the room, “ in her not-so-private life!”

Anya jumps out of her seat as well. “Oh listen here, you filthy—“

_“Enough!”_

The room falls silent and Lexa has to contain a smirk as she raises her chin, feeling the power of her word buzz over the long table. From the looks on everyone’s faces, she looks just as menacing as she feels.

She lets a few seconds pass before she finally speaks: quiet, calm, articulate, and final. “I do not disagree that my private life has, due to circumstances _not_ within my power, contrary to what some may try to make you believe, become an issue that Command needs to address. I will, however, draw the line at any of you qualifying the situation I have seen myself involved in without knowledge of all the facts — which, rest assured, you _will_ have access to — as shameful or any other adjective you see fit. I will also not tolerate any of you questioning my devotion to this company and ability to command it — as I will not allow any scathing, unfounded comments about my age and experience. I believe to have proved myself more than enough times to have to listen to such thespian displays of distrust and discredit. My work with Command is answer enough to any feeble attempts at removing me from my position.

“We do not need yelling matches to validate our points,” she looks pointedly at Anya, who has the decency to recoil back to her seat. “Whatever plan we design, it will have my seal of approval or it will not be approved at all. Try as you might, this is still a matter of my private life and I will _not_ bow to anyone’s cries for ostracism and humiliation. I will not, in case this ever comes up, step down either. This company is still young and I fully intend to accompany and guide it in its journey towards adulthood.”

Most heads nod, except for one. The Azgeda representative is still standing and wearing an expression of pure defiance and contempt. Lexa knows that everyone at Azgeda venerates Nia Queen. She admires it to a degree, although she can’t help but internally grimace at the thought that it has long crossed the line of fanaticism. Like their leader, every one of Nia’s lackeys harbours a covetous hate towards Polis and Lexa herself. Power is what they feed off. She knows that all Nia ultimately wants is the good of her people, as does Lexa, but the Machiavellian woman is willing to hurt others ruthlessly to get what she wants.

Her mind escapes to Clarke then and she wonders if Nia and her are not so different after all.

She shakes all thoughts of Clarke from her head and settles her gaze on the Azgeda representative. “Mr…”

“Baker,” he completes for her, and she can see that it bothers him to be reminded of his insignificance.

“You are here because Nia was too busy for this meeting?”

“Yes,” he nods, all reverence at the mention of his CEO. “Mrs Queen had to prioritise, unfortunately, but I am one of her most trusted employees.” Lexa nods in acknowledgement, all softness and respect.

“So Mrs Queen just decided to send a lackey in her place right after she _accidentally_ forwarded a personal email calling for Miss Woods’s resignation to everyone in this room?” Anya chimes in sardonically.

“A mistake that was quickly rectified, as you well know,” he reminds with a self-important smirk.

Anya snorts, but it is Indra who speaks: “The Ice Queen doesn't make mistakes. She makes threats.”

Baker is about to reply when Lexa holds up her hand, effectively silencing the room. She turns to him. “There's no need to argue about this again. Please — come join me. I have a message for Nia.”

He throws a scornful glance at Anya, arrogant and sure that he has had his way with a leader so immature and weak, and joins Lexa at the head of the table. “I’ll happily deliver…”

Lexa’s expression hardens suddenly as she turns to him. “Tell your boss that I do not talk to heralds. If she wants to make threats, she is welcome to do so to my face.” Her voice is dripping with venom as it rises for the final blow: “After that, you are fired. Effective immediately.”

Her hands clasp behind her back, dismissing him without words and leaving him shell-shocked and petrified. Gustus comes up to him and not so kindly escorts him out of the boardroom.

Peace and silence at last.

When she turns back to the table, Lexa delights at everyone’s shocked expressions. “Would anyone else care to question my qualification to run this company?” Every board member withdraws and settles in their seat silently. “Good. Meeting adjourned.”

 

* * *

 

It has been a whole week. Lexa has respected Clarke’s wishes for one week and stayed away, giving them both space and time to think. Now it is time to return to the real world. It is therefore no surprise to her when she receives a text asking to meet exactly a week after their… fight, if that’s even the right word.

Clarke promptly agrees and schedules a time, both agreeing to meet at her apartment. It somehow feels more appropriate to meet here than at Lexa’s. So at the agreed time, there comes the knock on her door.

Opening the door to the sight of Lexa — small, exhausted, vulnerable, hopeful Lexa — is nothing short of overwhelming. They stand there, silent, drinking each other in, until Clarke can no longer hold it all in and steps towards Lexa, wrapping her in a fervent embrace.

When Lexa’s arms come around her, a large breath of relief escapes Clarke’s lungs and it’s like a huge weight has been lifted off her chest, allowing her to finally breathe properly again.

Eyes screwed shut and breaths coming out ragged, Clarke can barely believe she’s holding the love of her life in her arms again. It has been only a week, yes; but it felt like a year, especially when riddled with uncertainty and anticipation. So feeling Lexa’s fingers pull on her shoulders and on her waist and on her body, as though being flush together isn’t nearly enough, is the bridge that unites the cliff Clarke has been standing at the edge of and the one she’s been regarding expectantly for the past week.

“I love you,” Clarke breathes, entirely untrusting of her own voice.

“I love you too,” Lexa whispers back, and their temples rest together in yet another gesture of comfort.

After another minute, the time to pull away comes upon them at last. Clarke is the first to draw back. She steps back inside her apartment and invites Lexa in, closing the door behind her.

With the two standing in the living room, Clarke finally has a chance to actually take Lexa in. The brunette is wearing a mid-tone grey shirt and the black skinny pants that drive Clarke crazy.

“You wore those pants on purpose,” she notes pointedly.

“What do you mean,” Lexa asks innocently.

“You know I love your ass in those pants.”

“I only know you are an ass girl,” Lexa points out.

“Well I really have no choice, do I? Not when a) your ass is the bomb, and b) I have enough boobs for the both of us.” At Lexa’s outraged expression, Clarke hastens to clarify: “I’m not saying your boobs are small! I think they’re perfect. It’s just _my_ boobs that are absurdly big.”

“I happen to love your boobs just the way they are,” Lexa provides softly, with a tiny lopsided smile that turns Clarke’s brain into mush.

“They’re decent.”

“They are perfect. The best.”

“You haven’t seen that many boobs, Lexa,” Clarke dismisses. “You can’t say something like that based on like, five pairs of boobs.” Lexa’s eye roll should earn her an Oscar.

“I _look_ at boobs, Clarke. And do not think that I haven’t noticed that you chose to wear an especially low-cut top with just the edges of my favourite bra visible underneath.”

“Or maybe I just happen to like wearing this top and bra.”

“And maybe I just happen to like wearing these pants,” Lexa concludes with a shrug.

Clarke can’t help her face breaking into a smitten grin. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” Lexa smiles, more confidently now. “More than you can imagine.”

“But we have to solve this.”

Lexa nods. “We do.”

Clarke huffs in frustration. “Why isn’t saying I love you enough?” Lexa smiles ruefully, but says nothing; probably knowing that Clarke has more to say. “I love you, Lex. I love you and I’m not willing to let _us_ go, because I think that what we have is too unique to give up for… what? Pride? A grudge? I’m not that person anymore,” she sighs, walking to the couch and plopping on it. “I don’t want to fight.”

All of a sudden Lexa is already in front of her, crouching and resting her palms on Clarke’s knees soothingly. “We do not have to.”

Clarke pats the spot next to her and Lexa gets the hint. When the brunette is seated, Clarke takes her hand and starts playing with her long fingers. “You betrayed me,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Yes.”

“But _I_ also betrayed _you_.”

“Yes.”

“I’m no better than you,” Clarke chuckles bitterly. “There’s no high horse in this situation.”

One of the corners of Lexa’s lips curls into a tiny smirk. “Indeed.”

Long moments of silence follow as Clarke continues toying with Lexa’s pliant fingers and the brunette keeps looking at their joint hands on her lap. When Lexa finally breaks the quiet, she speaks hesitantly.

“Do you trust me, Clarke?”

Clarke takes a deep breath, unsure of how her thoughts even align. That is the question that has been gnawing on her mind. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding stupid, but… I mean, not to sound dramatic, but you betrayed me. You lied. You broke my trust. I can’t just ignore it. But I also know that with anything else, you’re there. I know this was the exception, you know, because the rule is— I would trust you with my life, Lexa.”

Lexa nods stoically, eyes pensive and expression marred with the slightest hint of pain, but otherwise inscrutable. When Clarke finally peels her eyes from their entwined hands and valiantly looks at the true object of her devotion, hopeful green eyes shift up to meet hers.

It is easy to get lost in the forest of Lexa’s gaze — run between the tree trunks, feel the grass under her feet, caress the leaves as they pass in a blur. It is easy to forget that the very tips of the tallest trees cannot touch the sky and make it theirs. There has always been an unattainable quality to the owner of those eyes, stoic, noble, elevated.

Clarke doesn’t want to be like her, nor does she need to be with her. But god, does she wish to swathe and lose herself in the miracle that is _Lexa_.

Not losing the grip on Lexa’s fingers, Clarke brings her other hand up to the brunette’s knee and squeezes it lightly. Jade eyes soften and open themselves to her regard. “I love you, Lexa.”

“I love you too, Clarke,” the beautiful creature beside her whispers, the words laced with reverence.

“I trust you with everything else, but right now I can’t pretend that it didn’t leave a mark. I wish I could, but— that’s just not how it works. There’s an open wound that I need to close and that… It takes time, Lexa. I love you, but it takes time.”

“I understand, Clarke.”

It hurts her that Lexa is so understanding, so deeply accepting of everything. It makes her feel like she’s wounding the brunette beyond need. However, after months of trying and failing and lying and swaying, Clarke needs this. She needs to make sure that they don’t fall back into each other just because they love each other, just because they trust each other with everything else, just because life is so short and she wants to take the most of every single moment with Lexa she can possibly have.

She needs to be strong and handle the tenure, for rushing into the past might endanger their future. The present is clearly advising some time, so time is what she will give herself and Lexa.

Time is what she will give _them_.

“I—“ She takes a deep breath and starts again, ” _We_ need time. I want to help you with everything I can, but it can’t go further than that, not for a while.”

“I agree.”

“It’s gonna hurt so fucking much, Lexa, but we need to rebuild the little bits are broken before we can be with each other romantically again. The last thing I want is to ignore those problems and let them create a crack between us.”

She trusts Lexa with almost everything. That almost is what could condemn them. That almost is what she will work on.

Yet time does not wait for almost’s. It waits only for the certain and the wise, and Clarke is neither one nor the other.

“Yes,” Lexa says finally. “We need space, romantically. However, I cannot just let my company afloat at times like this so we can think.” Her eyes snap back to Clarke’s, grave and pleading. “I need you, Clarke. Nia is planning something, I can feel it. I will need all the help I can get to defeat her, and you are a crucial piece in this specific chess board.”

The smile that pulls at Clarke’s lips is rueful, bitter even. “So I’m back to being a pawn in your games?”

Lexa frowns, as though Clarke is missing the point entirely, not just of this conversation, but also of all that has transpired between them. “You were never just a pawn, Clarke. You were my queen.”

“Yes, but you were the player,” the blonde mutters, fully aware that she’s still unable to see past the betrayal, as much as she wants to move on.

Lexa shuffles closer, hands cover Clarke’s, and the intricate woods pull the oceans to them. When their eyes meet, Clarke sees a bit of everything, from love to sorrow, from resignation to challenge. At that precise moment, challenge is what shines the brightest.

“Tell me, Clarke. Who was I in your chessboard?”

That is what wakes her up. She cannot trust Lexa, not fully, not yet. However, they can't stubbornly pull away from each other when all they want is to push back in. Clarke drives a hand through her golden tresses with a huffing breath and regards Lexa once again.

"I'll help you," she declares. Her heart swells when she sees the glimmer return to Lexa's eyes. "I contributed to the fragility of your position right now, so it's only natural that I'd help. Besides, let's be honest. I love you, Lexa, and I can't just stay back and watch you lose everything you've fought for. It would destroy you. I could never let that happen," she admits in earnest. "So I'll help you in every way I can, but this doesn't mean that we're back together." She hasn't even finished the sentenced and Lexa is already nodding in agreement. "That's a bridge that will take longer to mend. But I—" Clarke sighs defeatedly.  _Fuck it_ , she thinks. Openness. Truth. Communication. "I love you in so many ways, Lex, not just romantically. I'm not just in love with you. That's not the only reason why I spend all my time with you. You're my best friend, you're my companion, you're the one that's always there for me. I want us to be together every day. I _need_ that. No kisses, no romance, nothing that might cross that line, but _fuck_ , I need you by my side every day, Lexa." She smiles sadly and squeezes Lexa's hand between both her own. "I need my best friend."

Lexa smiles softly. Long fingers come up to her temple to brush away stray curls of blonde hair. "You're my best friend too, Clarke."

They stare into each other's eyes for a long time, just basking in the reality of the other's presence. After sometime, Clarke lets go of Lexa's hand to wrap her arms around her lithe torso, snuggling into the brunette's warmth. Lexa drapes an arm around Clarke's shoulders and the two stay there, sitting on the couch, waiting out the pain so they can begin breathing again.

"So," Clarke speaks up after some time, not lifting her head from where it's resting against Lexa's shoulder. "You need help with Azgeda."

Lexa smiles down at her fondly and kisses the top of her head. "Yes. She wants to take over, that much is evident. I need to turn the tables on her and for that, I need your help."

"Why me, though?"

"Besides your obvious skills, you are an essential player in all of this mess," Lexa smirks. "I need you because you are the wildcard, the trump everyone wants to have in their hand."

"But you have me," Clarke says sleepily. Both women smile at all the meanings of her words. Lexa's hand on her thigh squeezes it affectionately.

"We can only plan so much so soon, but I can give you all the background information you need. Everything will have to be done on the fly, but with our skill for improvisation, I believe we will do brilliantly. More than a few people will be in on our plans. We can prepare for a few scenarios in the meantime. What do you think?"

Clarke yawns despite herself and her grip on Lexa tightens. "I _think_ that we can talk about it tomorrow and I want to sleep."

Next thing she knows, there's a hand on hers pulling her upright and then towards the bedroom. She follows drowsily, exhausted from the toll that the past week has taken on her and finally able to let the night do its work. It's all a blur as her clothes are gently taken off her body and replaced with soft pyjamas, the tender touches no more than chaste and filled with care. She's tucked into bed and just as she thinks a body will join her under the covers, she hears feet pad away from her.

That can't be.

Clarke extends her hand and barely manages to catch a wrist between her fingers. Lexa turns, eyes wide and concerned. "Are you okay, Clarke?"

"Sleep here."

Lexa looks everywhere but at her, uncertainty clear in the way she fiddles. "Clarke, I don't know if—"

"I was serious when I said I wanted to spend all my time with you. You're the most important person in my life," Clarke states, half of her sleepiness gone all of a sudden. " You're here, we're not crossing any lines, just... Stay. Please."

Lexa's eyes travel to meet Clarke's and her nod is so small, so hesitant, Clarke almost misses it. Then she hears the quiet ruffle of clothes being taken off and put off, and soon a body is returning to its rightful place, to where it should have always been. Right there, on her bed, any bed, next to Clarke.

Clarke turns to Lexa and places her hands on her hips, shifting her so the brunette's back is to her front. "Small spoon," she mumbles, feeling drowsy all over again.

"I think you mean front," Lexa attempts to sass over her shoulder, but Clarke's arm tightening around her waist and a nose burrowing into the back of her neck and silky chestnut hair effectively shut her up. Lexa's hands caress the arm resting over her belly and a sigh fills the skin of her neck with a million beautiful little hills of desire.

"No. Small," are Clarke's last words, before sleep finally takes over. It's the first time she really sleeps that week.

 

* * *

 

“You are not here to intervene, you are only here to observe,” Lexa explains as she strides down the many halls of Polis, still a few hours away from the upcoming meeting at Command. Clarke frequently skips a step or two in her struggle to keep up with Lexa’s pace. “You will stay in a room with a window to the boardroom, like an interrogation room. Only I and someone else know of this. They will not see you, but you will see them. Observe, take notes, whatever you it takes.” Lexa stops abruptly and turns to face Clarke, who has to reel in suddenly and finds herself mere inches away from her sort-of-but-not-really-ex-lover. Big green eyes are steel now, paled by the environment where Lexa clads herself in the coldest skin. “Just make sure that the moment the meeting closes, you are already thinking of a course of action.”

Lexa turns away again in a flurry and Clarke is back to almost running after her. “Wait, how do you expect me to come up with a plan? Shouldn’t that be your thing?”

Once again Lexa stops many seconds too soon and Clarke almost crashes against her back. A lithe suit-clad body spins on her. “Two minds think better than one,” is Lexa’s simple answer, like it somehow answers everything, and Clarke doesn’t even bother resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Not a second later, Lexa is power walking away from her again.

“We have talked about this, Clarke. You are here because you are a leader, and albeit green, a very good one. Your ability to improvise is,” Lexa’s voice takes on an almost dreamy quality, “virtually unmatched. You will need to play a part later, and I need you to realise what that needs be before that boardroom meeting even ends.”

“Wait, Lexa— Lexa, _stop!_ “ Unable and unwilling to take anymore of this fast-paced monologue, Clarke leans into Lexa’s space and grabs her upper arm, swinging her back. Lexa whirls around and steps into Clarke’s personal space out of reflex, but her eyes immediately soften and her shoulders relax.

She seems to understand Clarke’s pressing worries, judging by her next words. “You have to realise what part you need to play, because you will start playing it the moment the meeting ends and my associates file out of the boardroom,” Lexa clarifies softly, carefully, consonants clipped in her whispers. “We need to start playing the game before the referee even blows the whistle.”

Clarke sees an opening and she can’t help taking it. “I’d gladly blow _your_ whistle.”

Lexa may respond with an all too dramatic eye roll, but Clarke (ever attuned to her lover) doesn’t miss the nearly invisible smirk that adorns the corner of full lips as the brunette turns away again.

 

* * *

 

It’s like watching a movie.

Lexa stands at the head of the table, hands folded behind her back and expression stony, utterly unreadable. She observes as everyone talks, argues, and even yells among each other, waiting out the chaos so she can find her cue and stab an authoritative silence through it.

All it takes is the raise of a hand.

Tensely quiet seconds follow until the hand goes back to its partner behind Lexa’s back. You would hear a feather fall on the hardwood floor.

“We hereby resume last Monday’s adjourned meeting. Nia,” Lexa speaks calmly and pleasantly, “it is a pleasure to see that you could join us this time.” Clarke smirks at the venom behind Lexa’s words, perfectly masked by the congenial tone.

Nia’s smile is putrid. “Yes, well… I could not miss such an important missing, now, could I?”

“Indeed you couldn’t.” Lexa looks over the room, then stares straight at the window through which she sees nothing, but knows Clarke is watching her. “Now that we have exchanged pleasantries, I would like you to welcome the newest member of our board, Nathan Miller. We are now thirteen.”

Clarke takes enormous pleasure in the way that Nia’s jaw promptly falls all the way to the top of the long table they are all sitting at and her eyes bulge out of their sockets.

Nathan enters the room calmly, clad in a fine suit, not a glance at his fiancée, and sits at the only vacant chair around the table, right next to a woman that Lexa has told Clarke is called Luna, one of the CEO’s greatest allies in the boardroom. Something about taking Luna in again after she’d resigned and shielding her from the subsequent criticism.

Nia shoots out of her seat, no doubt to express her outrage, but Lexa beats her to it. “Thank you, Nathan, for joining us here today.” He just rolls her eyes, not even gracing her with an answer, and when Clarke looks at Nia again, the hawk-like woman is already licking her lips in greedy anticipation.

 _Hook_.

Once everyone has settled back in their seats, Lexa addresses the whole room. “We are gathered today to discuss our course of action following the rather distasteful release of personal pictures by the media and how such controversy, though exclusive to my personal affairs, has affected our company.”

“All you had to do was keep your _fingers_ to yourself,” Nia snickers.

“Like _you_ should keep your opinions to yourself?” Anya counters with a snarl, effectively shutting the nasty woman up.

“Anyway,” Lexa restarts with an eye roll, sitting down, “it is my intention to assure you that whatever we decide today, we shall go through this together and come out stronger for it tomorrow. The absorption of Skysafe is further proof that Command will pay no mind to unfounded rumours and malicious stories. We have not to address this issue, but to breeze past it. Pretend like it is no issue at all, or it does not exist.”

Nia is the first to speak, her tone almost condescending. “The problem, Alexandria, is that we cannot just ignore it. This scandal, no matter how much you refuse to refer to it as such, has clearly left us vulnerable.”

“Our stock value has been slowly, but steadily decreasing since last week,” the Broadleaf CEO comments, hands on his suspenders.

“And we will show the world that there is nothing to worry about,” Lexa replies immediately. “This is Wall Street testing us. We have to show that we are stronger than they think us to be.”

“You have been ridiculed,” the CEO of Blue Cliff, a small woman in her fifties or sixties with short dark hair and tiny, severe eyes, intervenes. “That is hardly a show of strength.”

“Your position is fragile,” Nia claims as she stands up. “Your leadership is being questioned. Your professionalism is doubtful, at best. And your loyalties are questionable. That is the image that the world has of Alexandria Woods right now and above all, the image your board has of you.”

Lexa’s sculpted eyebrow lifts. “Is that a challenge, Ms Queen?”

Nia’s wolfish smile is nothing short of terrifying. “It might as well be, Alexandria. I think it is time for a change in leadership.”

“You cannot do it without unanimous vote,” Lexa argues, almost bored. “You know our rules. Unless you get the whole board to agree with you, my backside will be remain firmly planted in this chair.”

“Brace yourself, then, Alexandria.” The room sits still as Nia stands even taller, her dramatic pause freezing the room into expectation. It is but a few seconds later when she announces her intentions. “I call for a vote of no confidence.”

_Line._

Lexa straightens in her chair, her expression unreadable still. “As you wish.” She turns to the first chairman on her left. “Mr Adamson, please begin.”

Nia sits down and the chairman of Delphi stands up, tall and self-important as he addresses the room. “I believe it’s time that we have a leader more concerned with Command than their private affairs. I vote no confidence.”

The next person, a lanky blonde man with a thick moustache, whom Clarke recognises as the CEO of Desèrt, simply mutters that he agrees with his colleague.

Next in line is a chubby man, bald but for the laurel crown of dark hair around the top of his head, and an unpleasant demeanour. Clarke remembers Lexa calling him Mr Jefferson, head of Podak. “Like I said last week,” he starts in his boisterous, affected voice, “my company will not endorse this scandal. The only way to end this is to get to the root of the problem and pull it out — and you, Miss Woods, are it. I vote for no confidence.”

“I agree,” says the next one, leader of Ingran, only to have his words echoed by the woman sitting to his left, the CEO of Glowing Forest. Clarke counts five, which means there are still six more to go.

“Wall Street will not wait for a _girl_ to decide whether or not she’s ready to grow up and fight amongst the men,” a spineless, horrible man with a huge nose and spiky gelled hair argues. He’s the CEO of Shallow Valley, Clarke remembers. “Miss Woods is no longer fit to rule.”

Just as soon as he sits down, the man by his side, the RockLine chairman, nods his head in agreement. Next on the line is the Broadleaf CEO, who rises from his chair with hands tight around his suspenders.

“I know I will be criticised for saying this, but let us be honest: it’s on everybody’s minds. It wasn’t bad enough to be exposed for an affair. Miss Woods had to have an affair with a _woman_. As far as scandals go, this is the most reproachable I can think of. Lesbian scandals are cannon fodder for Wall Street. And look, I’m not a homophobe; the sister-in-law of my cousin twice removed likes to say she’s bisexual or whatever that means, but this is ridiculous. A woman _and_ a lesbian? This is all good for the kids nowadays that love to say they’re this and that just to get attention, but this is the CEO of one of one of the biggest companies in God blessed America we’re talking about. Add loose morals to the mix and we got ourselves a recipe for disaster!” The man stops for a moment to take a breath, his round and spoiled form able to take spewing out only so many buckets of bullshit at a time. “This needs to end. I want someone who can lead us responsibly. No more children, no more lesbians, no more scandals. If it must be a woman, then let it be someone competent for a change. I know that’s rare, but I think Mrs Queen here fits the bill.”

Clarke can almost _feel_ how much effort it takes Lexa not to roll her eyes at his bigoted ass. She does it for her lover tenfold.

Lexa takes a deep breath, releases it calmly, and turns to the CEO of Blue Cliff, the tiny woman with the tiny eyes. “Miss Jones?”

The woman rises, barely standing taller than when she was seated. “Although I disagree with a great deal of some of my colleagues' points,” she looks pointedly at her Broadleaf counterpart, “I do believe that Command has come out weakened by this scandal and Miss Woods’s position has been compromised. She has been ridiculed and rendered unable of showing strength without being reminded of all her shortcomings. As such, I vote for her deposition.”

Once Miss Jones sits down, all eyes fall on Luna. The woman, with her wild curly hair and disinterested stance, shifts her gaze to Lexa. “You’re weak,” she shrugs unflappably. “You don’t have what it takes to lead Command anymore. I say goodbye.”

Lexa presses her lips in a thin line, a gesture that everyone else would mistake for frustration. Not Clarke, though. Clarke knows that she is actually suppressing a smile, trying to hide her satisfaction at seeing their plan unfold so seamlessly.

It’s Nate’s turn at last, but Nia speaks before he can, predatory ice blue eyes turning to Lexa, who sits tall in her chair. “Too bad you couldn’t quite curb your libido, Alexandria, and you have therefore made an enemy out of your only ally.”

Lexa stares levelly at Nia, her expression betraying no emotion. Then she turns to her fiancé. “Nathan,” she prompts softly.

Nate leans on one of the arms of the chair as his lips pull into a subdued smirk. His eyes never leave Nia’s as he speaks: “Skysafe Incorporated votes for stability. You can’t have your coup, Ms Queen.”

_And sinker._

Nia’s face becomes a rainbow in that moment. It blanches, and then goes blue, then green, then completely red, and finally pale again. When she shoots up and faces Nate, a growl in her mouth and fire in her eyes, Clarke steps back unconsciously. “We do not recognise the legitimacy of Skysafe as a member of this coalition. Your vote is null.”

“We do,” Indra snarls. “Skysafe was unanimously voted into Command by all present at the meeting last month. It’s your fault alone if you failed to attend.”

“Curious that you are now rejecting Skysafe, when just a minute ago you were asking for Mr Miller’s vote. Make up your mind, Ms Queen,” Anya mocks, before addressing the room. “This vote of no confidence fails. All of you coup plotters deserve to lose their seats in the board.”

Nia scoffs. ”She won’t get rid of any of us because she knows she would end up without a coalition. None of us here want that.”

“We both know what you want, Nia.” At the sound of Lexa’s cold and menacing voice, every head turns to the CEO in surprise. The brunette has been watching rather than taking part in the discussion, but seems to find this to be the right time to intervene. Lexa stands up and walks slowly to meet Nia. “If you think me unfit to command, issue the challenge and let’s get on with it.”

The two terrifying women are practically toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose, looking down at each other in a push and pull of power that makes the whole room feel tighter with tension. Nia’s smile is wolfish and bloodthirsty; Lexa’s face is emotionless.

“Very well,” Nia concedes at last. “You are challenged.”

“And I accept your challenge,” Lexa mutters, everyone in the room having to strain to hear.

“So be it. A trial. I present my case for leadership, you present yours. The rest of board members vote and the results are announced two days later. Majority wins.”

Lexa turns her back on Nia and walks slowly, regally to her chair, where she sits authoritatively. She looks directly at Clarke through the window and nods minutely. It’s Clarke’s cue. The blonde is already leaving the room when she hears Lexa’s last words of the meeting.

“A trial it is, then.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make sure that there are no misunderstandings: Clarke is very much aware that they BOTH were in the wrong. She conducted the conversation, but was speaking for the both of them. They both need time to rebuild trust. The thing is, Lexa needs her help right now, so it's useful to cater to Clarke's needs/wants, lest Clarke change her mind. Besides, as stated in the last chapter, Lexa has already forgiven her. It was easier for her because she knew the big picture, she's known everything that's been going on all along. So she's already been through all that Clarke's going through now.
> 
> As always, all feedback is strongly appreciated :) feed the beast


	20. "I agree"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clarke and lexa have an honest talk (and both are taken down a notch), clarke confronts her friends, and clarke's loyalty is tested

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: Command is the coalition of companies, Polis is Lexa's personal company. No Trikru. Sorry for the confusion in the last chapter.
> 
> Tbh I don't know how I thought I could finish this chapter during the weekend, since I work weekends. And then I had to get that 99 OVR Griezmann so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ but here it is now, hope you like it :)

Instead of meeting Lexa and the board members outside the room, Clarke decided to leave. Lexa has given her carte blanche to do whatever she thinks best, and Clarke realised then that she would do better not to be seen around the brunette much, so she can keep the board wondering — wondering where her loyalties lie.

So she headed home, where she is right now, in her pyjama shorts and tank top, one leg pressed to her chest and her chin propped on the knee, sitting at her desk and staring at the screen of her laptop, where (a breathtakingly beautiful) Lexa talks animatedly about their plans.

“Yeah, she’s definitely coming for me,” Clarke nods. “I think we shouldn't be seen together. If we want them to think that I can be bought, then we have to keep our distance from each other."

"I agree. Anyway, I think it is better like this. Being apart. It allows us clear minds," Lexa provides.

"Wait so you think— talking about us now. You think we should be apart?"

Lexa’s eye roll makes her wish she could reach through the screen and strangle the brunette. "I did agree with you the other day, Clarke."

"Did you, though? I don't know, Lexa, you barely even talked. You let me make all the decisions, and then went straight to asking for my help. How am I supposed to know what you want if you don't actually take part in the conversation?" Clarke shrugged, holding out her palms helplessly.

"I am talking to you, Clarke. And I talked to you then. As far as I know, saying you agree with someone actually means that you agree with them. What else would it have meant?"

"I don't know, maybe— look, I just got this feeling…” Clarke sighs heavily and props her elbows on the desk. “Like you were saying what you thought I wanted to hear. Like... Like you needed my help, so you agreed." Lexa presses her lips together, her typical ‘guilty but not sorry’ expression. Clarke’s eyes widen in near disbelief. "Wow,” she chuckles derisively, shaking her head. “So I was right."

"If that is what you thought, why did you not speak then?” Lexa counters. “Why speak only now that I have agreed to your terms?"

Clarke scoffs. "Don't pin this on me, Lexa."

"No, _you_ don't pin this on me, Clarke. Once again, you speak up only when it is convenient to you," Lexa accuses.

"And once again you lead me to think everything's fine when it's not, just like with the voicemail situation!" Clarke exclaims.

Lexa sighs, her gaze lowered. "And here we are. The crux of the debate."

"You manipulated me, Lexa! You lied to my face! I was fucking crying and I asked you if you'd heard my voicemail and you said — to _my face_ — that you hadn't even gotten it! So yes, I'm still fucking mad about it, because you saw me fall apart and yet you lied in my fucking face like— like you didn't fucking _care_ , like I meant _nothing_ to you!"

Lexa refrains from engaging in the (almost) screaming match, letting a few seconds pass as she brings two fingers to each of her temples, eyes closed. "You know what I am tired of, Clarke?"

Clarke leans back on her chair and crosses her arms. "Yes, Lexa. Tell me what you're so tired of. I'd _love_ to hear that," she drawls in a sardonic tone.

Lexa’s eye rolls truly deserve a stand in the non-existent eye roll museum. "I am tired of you using me as scapegoat for all that transpired between us. You blame yourself, I know you do, but instead of admitting that, you put all the blame on me.”

“Oh, believe me Lexa, I can do both,” Clarke chuckles darkly, not without some venom on the tip of her tongue.

Lexa’s eyes meet hers in a piercing stare. “But you don’t. I am not perfect, Clarke, nor will I ever be. I made mistakes, the voicemail most of all. You have no idea how much I regret that. I am so, so sorry for it,” the brunette admits tiredly. “But please stop attributing all our problems to that one event.”

To that, Clarke feels all the rage slip away and is left without an answer. It’s not that… It’s not that she blames Lexa. She doesn’t. She knows that Lexa and her are equally to blame for the mess they’ve found themselves in, and their reasons equally as valid, if not at all redeemable. No. Clarke knew, deep down, and is now realising that her real problem is not Lexa. Hell, if anything, Lexa is her solution. No matter the equation, Clarke’s solution will always be Lexa. What really bothered her during their talk was that she was getting no real reaction from Lexa and…

“I was scared,” she confesses at last. “I swear I didn’t only talk about it now just because it was convenient. I just really… I just hadn’t really thought about it till earlier today. Seeing you at the meeting, your machinations… It had me thinking and I was scared, because it suddenly felt like you’d only accepted my terms to get me to shut up and help you. I _know_ it’s cruel and unjustified, but I can’t help it. It reminded me of the voicemail situation, which—“ she sighs. “I admit I’m not over it yet.“ Clarke breathes and breathes and Lexa lets her. The brunette remains quiet, knowing she has more to say. “I know I’ve been harsher with you than I’ve been with— well… you know. I am aware of that, Lexa. But I _love_ you. It hurts more, because I love you. And you have no idea… You have _absolutely_ no idea of the power you have over me. The power to hurt me. It hurts so much more because it’s you. And I don’t mean this in an unhealthy way. I mean this because, when you love someone, the potential for hurt is that much bigger. And I am so afraid of trusting you again just like _this_ ,” she snaps her fingers together, “and getting hurt all over again. And you don’t even know,” Clarke chuckles sadly. One of her elbows comes to rest on the desk and she lays the side of her face on her hand. ”You sit there,” she gestures with her other hand, “beautiful and selfless and just so _giving_ , and you don’t even know.”

Even with the shitty image of the video call, Clarke can see as Lexa’s eyes turn softer and her expression relenting.

“I do know, Clarke. You have the exact same power over me.”

And it hits her.

It hits Clarke that she has been thinking about her side so much, even if unconsciously, that she’s forgotten that Lexa loving her means precisely the same as her loving Lexa. It means that Clarke can hurt Lexa just as much as Lexa can hurt her. And that thought, as tragic and perhaps cruel as it may be, soothes her. Neither is safer than the other — and they are both equally as hell-bent on never hurting the other again.

She smiles.

“I never thought about it that way.”

Lexa’s tiny lopsided smile is a sight for sore eyes. “I guess that is what we are here for,” she whispers softly. “To help each other see.”

“Okay,” Clarke nods, her fears assuaged. “What now, then?”

“First of all, you need to understand that I have already experienced what you are going through now. I have forgiven you, Clarke. I did that day months ago, when I came to terms with the fact that despite our wishes not to make them so, both our betrayals were personal. So personally, I don’t need the distance,” Lexa explains with a tiny shrug. “However, I understand and agree that you do. And maybe, because I did not afford myself it at the time, I need the distance too. You know that I am not as… vocal with my feelings as you are. I do agree with you, though. I do think we need the distance. The following weeks, with Nia on our tails, are the perfect opportunity to put that in practice without it feeling forced.”

Clarke’s smile grows. With this specific issue out of their way, she feels so much lighter. She feels like she’s just taken a big step towards trusting Lexa again — and earning back Lexa’s trust.

 

* * *

 

Clarke has seldom been more nervous before meeting her friends. There was that time before revealing to Raven that Finn was a cheater — that might classify as the time she’s been the most nervous. Now that she thinks about it, that is the only time she’s ever been more nervous than she is right now.

By her side is Raven, her ally through it all, and it could not be more appropriate. Octavia will arrive with Bellamy in tow, to make sure that he doesn’t cower. Jasper’s attendance is to be assured by Monty.

She’s pacing around their meeting room, both anxious to just get this over with and dreading her friends’ arrival. Yet when Octavia comes in with Bellamy, it’s like someone just flicked a switch and Clarke is ready to begin. Soon enough, Monty enters the room with Jasper.

Jasper is sporting a sullen expression and as Monty tries to pull him closer to the table at the centre of the room, he yanks his arm away and shoves his hands in his pockets like a petulant child.

Bellamy, on the other hand, is very closed off, his permanent frown the only thing betraying his mood. His arms are crossed as he leans with his hip against the conference table and look everywhere but at his friends.

This is as good a time to begin as ever.

“I called you all here because we ought to discuss the events of the past months, more so the past weeks, together,” Clarke starts. “I’d really like to know why two of you thought it was acceptable to breach my privacy and expose Lexa and I to the whole world. That was… Well, for lack of a better word, that was shitty, guys.”

To her surprise, neither Bellamy nor Jasper have the decency to look guilty. Instead, the former presses his lips in a thin line, glaring at her, while the latter gets a challenging glint in his eyes.

“You ruined us,” Jasper speaks lowly.

“We’ve been over this already,” Octavia intervenes. “Clarke did nothing wrong. Not to us, at least.” Clarke winces, reminded once again of the wrong she’s done Lexa.

“Your relationship was built on lies,” Bellamy speaks finally. “It was meant to fall apart. We only gave it a little push.” He shrugs and looks proud of himself. “We all know who you belong with, Clarke.”

Her eyes snap to him, flaming with anger. “Spare me your heteronormative and homophobic delusions, Bell. I love Lexa. She loves me. We’re going to stay together. The end,” she says harshly.

At her words, he has the gall to smirk. “We’ll see. She’ll get tired of you or you’ll get tired of pussy one day, and then—“

“Shut the fuck up, Blake.” All five pairs of eyes in the room turn to Raven, who’s only now speaking for the first time. “You were pissy because a _lesbian_ stole your imaginary girlfriend and you lost your job. Don’t try to disguise your fuck-ups as some grand, selfless gesture. You’re a fucking low-life with an inferiority complex and an inflamed ego who likes to lean on other people’s hard work to survive. It was your own damn fault that you couldn’t find a job, but of course you wouldn’t take responsibility. When was the last time you took responsibility for something? Probably never.”

“Fuck off, Raven,” he warns, with an imposing finger pointed at her.

“I’ve been doing just that and guess what, it’s so much better than your tiny penis.”

Clarke resists the urge to laugh when she sees Bellamy throw his arms up in the air, as though asking for patience. “See what happens? I come here and I’m attacked.” He lays his hands on the square table and regards them all. “I’ve always done what’s best for all of you. It’s a shame that you can’t see it.”

“We can see that, and we’re grateful for that, but then things changed and all you did was try to get them back to how they were,” Octavia accuses. “Without even thinking that maybe we were actually better than before.”

“I wasn’t,” Jasper speaks up in a drawl.

“That’s because you wouldn’t get your lazy, stoned ass off your couch to make breakfast, let alone look for a damn job,” Monty chimes in. “I’ve pretty much been your nanny for the last three months. I miss my best friend,” he adds sadly.

“Yeah, _she_ ,” Jasper points at Clarke, “killed your best friend. Talk to her instead. I’ll see myself out.” He walks a couple steps backwards with his hands raised and then turns his back to them as he heads to the door.

“Jasper,” Clarke calls out, but he keeps walking. “We’re not done here yet, Jasper!”

This time, he does turn back, but takes no step towards the group. “Oh yes we are,” he smirks. “But don’t worry, I’ll see you in the magazines.” He winks. “You ruined my life — I’ll ruin yours.” With that, he turns away again and doesn’t come back. Monty runs after him, probably to try and knock some sense into his head.

Clarke’s elbows land on the table and she rests her head on her hands. “That went well,” she ironizes tiredly.

She feels a soothing hand on her shoulder and when she looks up, Raven is looking understandingly at her. They share a small sad smile, then the brunette turns to Bellamy.

“You have two options: one, help us sort this shit out; two, get the fuck out and never come back,” she states firmly.

He scoffs. “Oh yeah? I’m not helping you destroy my hard work, so option one is out. As for option two, I go and then what? What do you expect me to do?”

“Oh, you know,” Raven shrugs with a smirk, arms crossed. “Whatever the hell you want.”

“Go fuck yourself, Reyes,” Bellamy growls and turns to leave. Behind him, Clarke and Octavia are holding in their laughter.

Just as he’s about to leave the back-office, Raven cups her hands in front of her mouth and calls out, “I told you, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing! And I don’t even have to fake it!”

He slams the door on his way out and the three women look at each other. Suddenly the three of them break into laughter. Clarke doesn’t know what even is so funny about this situation, but laughing with her friends, having them right by her side, wrapping themselves in a bubble just for some brief moments… She’ll take that any day. It feels good. It makes her feel happy. So she lets herself ignore all her problems for a few minutes, forget all reason, so she can laugh with her friends at something that’s probably not even that funny.

As the laughter dies down, Clarke feels something else bubble up inside her. It comes in hiccups, slow and gradual, and culminates in an abrupt sob that wracks her body like a storm. Then another. And another, and another, until all of a sudden the light-heartedness she felt mere moments ago is gone she’s being held in both her friends’ arms. The room is silent except for her sobs and the occasional sniffle and Clarke doesn’t know how this happened, but it feels liberating. It feels like she’s been waiting to do this for the past few weeks.

An eternity passes before Clarke’s sobs subside and her tears dry out. Raven and Octavia don’t let up in their embrace and only then does she realise that her friends have been silently crying too. She realises that just as much as they have comforted her, she has comforted them, and that makes her heart swell.

Clarke turns to Raven, who is quick to rub at her eyes and cheeks, eager to get rid of any traces of tears and vulnerability. Clarke grabs her wrist and stops her. When their eyes meet, she shakes her head minutely. Raven smiles faintly and nods, then rests her forehead on Clarke’s temple.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke whispers hoarsely.

“Hey,” Octavia croaks from her right. “You have nothing to be sorry for. _Nothing_. At least not with us.” Clarke nods, but as always, has a hard time believing. “Hey, I mean it Clarke,” Octavia insists, her expression serious. “I know you always feel responsible for us. Look, I _know_ my brother and I love him, but that jackass never takes responsibility for his own shit. Jasper is a fucking lost cause. They blame you because it’s easier than blaming themselves. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“It’s true,” Rave concurs.

Clarke nods and swallows the lump in her throat. She feels lighter, somehow. “Thanks, guys.” Then she turns to Raven again. “You knew that Bellamy…?”

“That he’s in love with you?” Raven completes. At Clarke’s guilty nod, she sighs heavily. “Yeah, I had an inkling. Although… Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think that he’s _actually_ in love with you. I think that he has this _idea_ that he _should_ be in love with you and you two _should_ be together, because… well, in his head, it would be the natural consequence of your friendship and your roles within the group. So it’s like… He thinks he’s in love with you, because he’s supposed to be.”

Clarke nods along, deep in thought. She understands Raven’s theory in spite of how messed up it is. “And I’m supposed to be in love with him too,” she realises, the frowns as she remembers her talk with Bellamy the other day. “He did say something about… The main guy and the main girl always getting together in the end and Lexa being a stepping stone.”

“Yeah. It’s like his mind is stuck in a shitty heternormative show, where the guy always gets the girl. I mean, it is what society teaches us to think,” Raven shrugs.

“Well, I think he watches way too much television,” Clarke decides. “Life is not a TV show. In real life, we win.” As both her friends nod, she regards Raven with a smirk. “You figured all that on your own… You might just be a genius, Reyes.”

Raven’s shit–eating grin is her greatest reward. “It does seem like I am, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Octavia quips.

“Too late,” Clarke laughs.

They talk for a while and Clarke really feels like she’s got her friends back. No more secrets, no more intrigue, no more dirty job. Just her and them, being friends and telling each other everything (within the limits of reason, unlike what Raven seems to think — the genius has quite the sordid interest in her and Lexa’s love life, Clarke realises).

Octavia eventually excuses herself to go grocery shopping with Lincoln — for which both Clarke and Raven tease her, insinuating that it’s time they tie the knot (Octavia’s only response is a rather flamboyant display of the middle finger) — and Clarke and Raven are left to her own devices. Or, in Clarke’s case, it’s time to ask for a favour, as she so eloquently puts it.

“Sure,” Raven ascents, not without a concerned frown. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I just need you to take some files from my phone and,” Clarke hesitates, biting her lower lip, “put them on some USB drive or something.” Raven raises an eyebrow at her. “I know I can do it myself, but I don’t want to have any registry of those files ever having been on my computer. Besides, there’s something else that I need you to get from my phone that takes a gifted programmer. I don’t even know how to add BCC recipients in Outlook,” she smirks.

“To your credit, Outlook is needlessly complicated.”

 

* * *

 

There is a place Clarke loves going that no one knows about. It’s a small condo she used to rent out, right in the middle of the city. It’s beautiful, with a view to Central Park and wonderfully homey. The couple that used to live there had a kid and a single room was no longer enough, so when the place freed up, Clarke first thought was to rent it out to someone else. One day, however, just as she was showing it to a prospective buyer, she noticed just how _perfect_ the lighting was in the living room. A week after that, she tried painting in there, to see just how _perfect_ the lighting was.

She never rented it out again.

As she stands in the middle of the living room, brushing careful strokes along the previously blank canvas, Clarke pats herself on the back for her choice. Yes, it brings her extra expenses, but she’s financially comfortable enough to be able to cover it without a problem.

She steps back and admires her work. As usual, Lexa looks back at her, with those soulful viridian eyes, as serious as they are tender. Clarke has a very… particular way of coping and finding an outlet for her feelings. Usually, she’ll draw Lexa just as she is: beautiful, gentle, powerful, remarkable. Sometimes, though — those times being when she’s angry at the brunette — Lexa gains some extra features, like devil horns, ugly sharp teeth, or ridiculous moustaches. It’s childish, Clarke knows, but it’s a way to let her frustrations flow out of her. Today, Lexa sits on her easel unmarred. Nevertheless, to her right is a horn-bearing Lexa, from the day after the brunette revealed her role in the past few months. It’s harmless, yet quite cathartic, especially when she can’t or doesn’t want to talk to Lexa right away.

Communication is definitely key, but sometimes Clarke just needs to cool off. Other times, she isn’t quite ready to _communicate_ right away.

Right now, the Lexa starting right back at her is a source of peace and comfort.

Clarke looks at her watch and notices it’s almost four pm. She still needs to buy some groceries (not spending every day with Lexa is really starting to take a toll on Clarke’s fridge) and make dinner, so she’d better hurry. In the midst of her planning, she notes how fucking lonely it feels to get home at the end of the day and have to make dinner for one.

Just as she’s leaving the building, backpack slung over her shoulders, a group of three people approach her. Clarke is no stranger to people approaching her lately. She’s lost count to how many people have called her things like ‘whore’, ‘slut’, ‘dirty lesbian’, and ‘home wrecker’ since her relationship with Lexa came to light, just to mention a few of the most harmless ones.

Yet these people are as expected as they are familiar. At least one of them is. “Mrs Queen,” she greets with a nod.

The blonde woman’s lips stretch into a nauseating grin. “You recognise me.”

“I worked for your company. Wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t at least Google you.”

Nia smirks and Clarke already feels nauseous. “Yes. Now that you mention it, what is your opinion on the… little job you did for my company?”

Clarke tries to look just the right amount of bored, without overdoing it. “I’ve still to be paid for it, so I don’t really have much of an opinion for now.”

Nia nods pensively. “How about Lexa? Aren’t you worried that you hurt her?”

“She seems fine to me,” Clarke shrugs. “My bank account though…” she trails off suggestively.

She holds her own against Nia’s narrowed eyes. “So you have no regrets about hurting Miss Woods’s feelings?”

Clarke sighs heavily, as though tired of the conversation. “Look, I’ve been doing this since college. If I were to get emotional over every single idiot I fuck over, I wouldn’t be in this line of work,” she says firmly, and feels a pang of guilt for all the less than ethical jobs she’s taken in the past. She feels nothing for those whose infidelity she helped prove, for the cases that actually helped people. The ones she took purely for the money, however — those will take some time getting over. “Now, when are you paying my team and why are you here?”

“Straight to business, I see,” Nia smirks. “As far as I recall, you gave up halfway.”

“As far as I recall, you have audio recordings of me and Lexa fucking all over the Internet,” Clarke retorts. “Not to mention all the pictures you released to the magazines.”

“That was yours friends Mr Jordan and Mr Blake. Not you.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s my face in those pictures. I’m also pretty sure it’s my voice in those recordings. Do you want me to re-enact just to be sure?”

“No,” Nia pleads immediately, a sickly-sweet smile on her thin witch lips. “There is no need to demonstrate. You will have your money. In fact, to answer your previous question, that is exactly why I’m here.” Clarke quirks an eyebrow and waits for the woman to elaborate. “As you may or may not know, I have challenged Miss Woods for the leadership of Command — very much thanks to your work,” Nia compliments, and Clarke can see just how much effort it takes her to say something nice about any human that’s not herself. “I would like you to testify for me — therefore against Lexa — to a room full of board members. Would you be willing to do that?”

“Sure,” Clarke shrugs. “Will there be appropriate payment, though?”

“Naturally. Let’s say… On top of the agreed price for your first job… One million each and two million for yourself?”

“That’s a lot, but I’m not complaining. You’ll be taking control of Command, after all.”

“It is a considerable amount of money,” Nia agrees. “Consider it a reward for all your hard work. However, I will need some guarantee that you are on my side.”

“As will I,” Clarke crosses her arms. “Last time I worked for you, I didn’t get paid. And it’s not like I can file an official complaint.”

“Let’s do it like this: you give me some kind of guarantee and I will give you the amount pertaining to your first job.”

Clarke hums, weighing her options. “Or… I give you that guarantee and you pay the aforementioned one million to my team, two million to me.”

“I think you might be pushing your luck, Miss Griffin.”

“Am I though?” she challenges. “You need my testimony. I can just go to Lexa and offer her the same deal and then _she_ will be front-runner in your little contest. I don’t care who wins, Mrs Queen. I only care that I get my money. So what’s going to be? Six million or Lexa?”

Nia’s brow twitches in aggravation and Clarke couldn’t be more pleased. She can see the wheels turning in the woman’s head. “Fine. You can have your six million. I will transfer them to you the day you give me proof that I can trust you.”

On paper, Nia's deal is irresistible. More than two million dollars in exchange for a simple testimony at the trial. It would be the easiest money Clarke has ever won. In reality, though, Clarke would never take it. Her allegiance is to Lexa and all the money in the world wouldn't be enough to turn her against the brunette now.

“Well, I guess it’s your lucky day,” Clarke smirks and reaches for her bag. She pulls out the USB flash drive Raven gave her earlier and hands it to Nia. “I think you’ll like what’s there. Check it out, and then transfer the money. You have my and my colleagues’ account information. Do it until midnight, or I’ll turn to Lexa.”

“Very well,” Nia acquiesces. “I suggest you go now, Miss Griffin. I especially suggest that you keep your lover company tonight. I think she would like that.”

“Yeah,” Clarke nods, more sincerely than Nia can ever imagine. “I think she’d like that, too.”

 

* * *

 

When Lexa opens the door, already clad in her pyjamas (a tank top and shorts), Clarke raises her hand to show the takeout bag she’s holding. “I brought dinner.”

Lexa smiles and steps aside. “Come in.” As Clarke enters the loft, Lexa takes the bag from her hands and inspects it. “You brought tortillas from Nacho’s,” Lexa notes, practically with her nose down the bag. The brunette would never admit it, but Clarke knows she’s crazy about those specific tortillas from that specific place, and whenever Clarke brings it for her, she fails miserably in her attempts to hold back a wide beam. “I love these.”

“I know,” Clarke grins as she follows Lexa towards the kitchen. “Ran into some trouble, but Nacho defended my honour and sent me on my way with some delicious extras.”

Lexa lays the bag on the island and turns to Clarke with a raised eyebrow. “You ran into trouble at Nacho’s?”

“Yeah, some asshole threatened to leave and never come back if Nacho dared to serve, and I quote, ‘that home wrecking slut’,” Clarke explains with an eye roll as she sits down on one of the tall stools that line the island.

Lexa’s lips press into a thin line. “I’m sorry for that.”

Clarke is quick to shrug it off. “Not your fault.”

“Still.” The brunette swallows. “I am sorry.”

“Again, I don’t want to hear any apologies,” Clarke dismisses. “Just give me some food, woman. I’m dying out here. You have no idea how _delicious_ Nacho’s smelled. And I had to wait in line for over ten minutes. It was torture.”

Lexa’s smirk tells her that her subject change worked to perfection. The CEO sits down on the stool next to Clarke and opens the bag, handing one wrapped tortilla to the blonde and keeping one for herself.

“It worked, by the way,” Clarke mentions halfway through the meal.

Lexa is careful to swallow before speaking. “What did?”

“Nia.” This time, Clarke swallows before elaborating. “She came up to me and offered me to speak against you at the trial. I demanded immediate compensation, she wanted some proof of my loyalty. I gave her what we agreed on. She’s going to deposit one million on each of my friends’ accounts, Bellamy and Jasper included, and two on mine. Which reminds me, I need to check that today still.”

“You can do it on my computer.”

“Thanks,” Clarke smiles. “Oh and she encouraged me to spend the night with you. So get ready to put up with me for the next,” she checks her watch, “ten hours.”

“I have faced worse things,” Lexa smirks.

They eat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before Clarke interrupts it with serious talk. “I am glad that we had that talk yesterday. It helped clear my mind.”

“Me too,” Lexa nods. “I think… I _am_ sure that it helped us find our footing again.” Lexa is not a woman of many words when it comes to them and their problems and their talks, much preferring to lecture Clarke about the intricacies of business and leadership. She’s a woman of action rather than words when it comes to feelings, despite how eloquent she can sometimes be. Clarke is definitely the (oft excessively) vocal one. So seeing her try to _talk_ , short and contrived as it maybe, is a big victory. That’s all Clarke asks of her. Even if Lexa trips and falls many times in the future, all Clarke needs her to do is try.

Clarke knows that feelings don’t come easily to Lexa. The brunette is guarded and wary and so very much afraid of letting herself be vulnerable. Still, she found a safe haven in Clarke, someone she can relate to and be comfortable around, despite how quickly and deeply her feelings emerged at first. Clarke knows that Lexa has long left behind her reluctance to love and having feelings in general. Nonetheless, she knows that talking about such feelings is still an arduous task for the brunette, who finds words too small to encompass all that she’s feeling. That’s precisely one of the things Clarke finds most beautiful in Lexa — just how emotional a creature she is despite herself.

Lexa feels so much and she has no idea how to deal with it. Clarke can only hope to help her thread her way through the sheer amount of emotions that spill from her big heart and shine through her big eyes. It’s almost tragic, how paradoxical Lexa is. Clarke loves her for it.

Later in the evening, with the blonde changed into Lexa's checkered pyjama pants and an oversized t-shirt, after they’ve turned off the TV and headed to bed, Clarke stands at an impasse, unsure whether to follow Lexa into her bedroom or content herself with sleeping in one of the guest rooms. Lexa’s quirked eyebrow as she lingers in the doorway to the master bedroom, however, gives Clarke the answer she needs. With a breath of relief, she follows in the brunette’s footsteps.

They settle into bed, with Clarke’s arms once again wrapped around Lexa’s waist and her nose buried in silky chestnut waves and curls. This is the most the physical contact they allow themselves and only because it’s hard to fathom sleeping apart after months of falling asleep and waking up together. Still, this is only the second time they have done this since coming back from Amsterdam.

The room is silent and their breaths even, but Clarke knows that neither is asleep yet. She tightens her grip on Lexa, repeating in her head that this is what she almost lost and what she will never jeopardise again. Every time she remembers how utterly unworthy of Lexa she is, Clarke reminds herself that Lexa chose her regardless. So however unworthy of the brunette she is, she will do her best to make up for it every single day of her life. Lexa loves her. That is something to be cherished, not thrown away in vain displays of guilt and selflessness.

The first and only thing she can do for Lexa right now is help her keep her company, and Clarke makes a silent promise not to give up until they’ve reached their goal.

“I have no illusions of greatness,” Lexa whispers, snapping Clarke out of her thoughts. “I am not one of those leaders that get so lost in themselves and the power they hold that they are unwilling the step away or make sacrifices for their people.”

“That never even crossed my mind, Lexa,” Clarke whispers right back, needing the vulnerable girl in her arms to know that she knows what kind of leader she is. Clarke knows that Lexa would be the first to die for those under her care.

“I know. But I still need to explain,” Lexa admits. “Maybe what I really need is to convince myself.” Silence. Clarke knows that Lexa is not done yet. “I have no intention of stepping down. Command needs me as its leader for now. The moment they no longer need me, I will call for elections and once he wins, I will give my seat to Aden.”

“Aden is the kid you’re training to be your successor, right?”

“Yes.”

“How are you so sure that he will win?”

“By the time the election happens, Aden will already be performing most of my duties. The board will opt for the most seamless transition. Then I will be free to give all my time to Polis and design clothes again.”

“I think you should do that.” Clarke kisses the back of Lexa’s right shoulder, uncovered by hair. “It’s your true passion.” She feels Lexa nod and the room falls silent again.

“Am I being selfish?” Lexa asks quietly, so quietly that Clarke almost misses it. She doesn’t need further explanation to know what Lexa is asking about.

“No,” she reassures firmly, yet softly. “Only a foolish leader will sacrifice themselves in times of unrest. If people lose their leadership, they lose their way. No one in all those thirteen companies is as wise or as qualified to lead Command as you, Lexa. They _need_ you.”

“And after?” Lexa presses, voice even quieter than before.

“I think once you’ve done what you have to do, Command will be in a place where it can have a new leader without losing its way. Aden is the perfect successor and he’ll be mature enough to take your mantle. No one will blame you for doing something for yourself for once. The company will be in good hands.”

“Isn’t doing something for myself inherently selfish?”

“Maybe,” Clarke shrugs as the tips of her fingers trace idle patters over Lexa’s stomach. “But not in this context. You’ll have dedicated ten, fifteen, twenty years to everyone and their mothers. By then, you trying to be happy will practically be a matter of national security.”

Lexa’s small huff of laughter brings a sheepish smile to Clarke’s lips. “I guess I had better not threaten the security of our country, then,” the brunette says, a smirk painting her voice now. “But a job is not what I need to be happy.”

Clarke hums good-naturedly. “Really? Then what is?”

Lexa turns in her arms and those big, soulful green eyes regard her with a tentative brand of reverence. “You.”

The blonde smiles in lieu of replying, and her heart feels fuller the moment Lexa smiles, so small yet so tender, and lowers her gaze shyly. This Lexa, the one that makes an appearance only with her and in the most intimate moments, is her favourite. This Lexa is the one that nobody else ever gets to see.

Lexa scoots a bit lower, so she can fold herself into Clarke and rest her forehead lightly against the blonde’s chest. Clarke tangles their legs together and tightens her hold on Lexa, happy to be the brunette’s shield for tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more pre-trial chapter and then the trial starts. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Bellamy and Jasper will get what's coming for them, one of them in the next chapter. All feedback is not only welcome, but also desired!


	21. "the crux of the debate"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Mars appears! And with a chapter! I hope you like it :) and don't worry, I won't keep you waiting another three months. Cross my heart (unfortunately, not in that sexy way that Discord did in "Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas" - no one will ever exude as much as sexual energy, even through a goddamn cartoon, as my goddess Michelle Pfeiffer).
> 
> Also, this chapter is for my friend that went through a tough time recently, idk if she still reads this, but if you do, this chapter is for you, asshole. Thanks for helping me through my own complicated shit. And for always being the voice of reason (which unfortunately means that I'm almost never right, but whatever).
> 
> Without further ado - enjoy!

There’s no greater feeling in the world than waking up to Lexa Woods. She knows she ought to have checked her bank account already, to make sure that Nia delivered on her promise. She also knows that she probably shouldn’t have Lexa’s hand in hers right now, for the sake of the regrowth of their relationship, but when bright green eyes are looking at her like _that_ , she can’t really bring herself to even remember why they need to rebuild said relationship in the first place.

Oh, right. The farce. The deceiving. The lying. The voicemail.

Yet somehow, it all feels incredibly small, meaningless even, when Lexa is giving her that tiny, adoring smile that she loves, face alight with love. After everything that has transpired between them, she still can’t think of a reason not to want this woman in her life forever. After all the thinking, fighting, talking — waking up next to Lexa has brought her clarity.

Now that all their cards are on the table, seeing the unbridled devotion in Lexa’s gaze is all that she needs to know that she can trust this woman. Despite the hurt they’ve caused one another, she has no doubt that these eyes, soft and green with hope, will never betray her again. And just like that, Clarke lets go of everything that has been holding her back and finally gives in to loving Lexa.

“I love you.”

It’s a whisper, breathless but determined. Lexa swallows as full lips part in a daze. Suddenly, feathery fingertips are brushing under her chin and pulling it slowly, gently — barely the ghost of a touch — and she lets herself be drawn back to where they were before.

Only when her lips touch Lexa’s in a soft, languid kiss, Clarke realises that this is nothing like before. This is honest, aware, matured. Now they know every variable, every what if, every fault, every limitation — they know exactly what they are walking into and choose to take that step anyway.

This is better.

There’s no tongue, no heady flare of passion in this kiss, but it fits the moment, the situation. It’s the discovery of a new kind of familiarity. It is in the quiet, tender moments that a soul is at its most vulnerable. Anyone can brush intensity off as mere lust and deprivation. This kind of slow, quiet softness, the ilk of naked implications of a morning after, however, can only be taken for what it is.

Once the kiss meets its end, Clarke rests her forehead on Lexa’s, transfixed by the rosy blemish over kiss-worn lips. Eyes closed, Lexa brushes their noses together, before placing a barely-there peck on the corner of her mouth.

“I missed you,” Lexa whispers, voice gentle, as always, stripped of fetters or fears but for the way she rolls onto her back, perhaps overwhelmed by her own confession.

Clarke follows. She shifts onto her belly, scooting closer to Lexa, so her forehead can rest on the brunette’s temple, and hums.

“Me too.”

The timid, pleased smile that Lexa fails to suppress is worth every hurdle. Clarke drops a light kiss on a tall cheekbone, as her fingers dust over her favourite collarbones, trailing their length. Her hand is just starting to slip under the fabric of Lexa’s tank top when a hand on hers stops her movements.

She looks down to see green eyes already staring at her. “Let’s go slow,” Lexa half-asks, eyes tentative and exposed, almost pleading.

Clarke hesitates only half a second before nodding. “Yes.” Now that the option has arisen, she wants nothing more.

Her hand travels down to Lexa’s belly, feeling the rise and fall of her abdomen, as she nuzzles the side of her lover’s chin, beside her mouth, her cheek, all the way up to her temples. “I love you.”

This seems to awaken something in Lexa, for she rolls back up, meeting Clarke in the middle, both now lying on their sides, and her left hand comes to rest on the blonde’s waist. Green eyes gaze worriedly into blue.

“I do want you, Clarke. I just—“

“Hey,” she cuts Lexa off. “No. None of that. I want the same as you. I agree with you, ok? And I’m not hiding my feelings or- or just saying this to keep you happy. You know I’m physically incapable of that.”

Lexa huffs a small laugh, eyes lowering to the hand on Clarke’s waist. It amazes her how shy Lexa can still be sometimes in intimacy. She hides her face in Lexa’s long neck, breathing in the scent of the woman she loves, and places a tender kiss there. Loving someone is easy — you just do. The feeling blooms, it grows, that’s it. Everything that comes with the feeling, however — that’s the tough part. It takes a lot of effort to keep that love not just alive, but also healthy and worthwhile. It’s a flower that needs to be cared for, lest it decay and all its petals fall. If grown right, though, it can live forever. It is hard, so very hard; but for Lexa — _with_ Lexa — Clarke is willing to go to the ends of the earth to get even a drop of water to nourish their flower.

“That said, you know what else I’m physically incapable of?” she breathes onto Lexa’s neck. The brunette hums an enquiry and she drops another quick peck on the tan skin. “Living without breakfast.”

 

* * *

 

“Did she keep her promise?”

Clarke can’t help but laugh at Lexa’s question. “You haven’t stopped asking that today.” Beside her, the girl’s lips curl into the shadow of a smirk. Lexa is scanning the magazines and papers for new developments, while Clarke checks her bank account, to make sure that Nia dropped the agreed money. “What’s gotten into you? You’re the most patient person I know.”

“I am never patient when it comes to your wellbeing.”

“That’s cute,” she preens, leaning to kiss Lexa’s cheek. “But I’ll remember that every time you try to tell me something ‘takes as long as it takes’.”

She doesn’t see it, but knows Lexa just rolled her eyes with fondness. As she finally logs in to her main bank account, her lips tear into a wide grin. “She did it.” This time, it’s Lexa who leans over to Clarke’s side, so she can look at the screen. When green eyes widen, Clarke is quick to explain. “That’s just a guarantee. The rest is in… other accounts.”

Lexa nods slowly, emotions guarded, calculating. “Do I know that those accounts exist?”

“Yes,” she assures quickly. “I’d never risk giving Nia any dirt on me.”

Lexa’s second nod carries approval. “Well done.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to peer at what the other is doing. “What about you? Find anything?”

“Yes. Nia sold the pictures you gave her to three different magazines. I think Jasper has leaked some stuff as well, but at this point, it won’t make a difference. If anything, it will help us paint the picture we intend to.”

“Which is the truth,” she reminds Lexa.

“Mostly, yes.”

Seeing as she’s already online, Clarke decides to check her e-mail accounts as well. Work has nothing important, so she logs on to her personal account. As she scrolls down, she can’t help rolling her eyes. Junk, junk, junk, spam, spam, spam, ad, ad, ad, Raven’s spam, Octavia’s spam, junk, junk, junk, ad, ad—

“Holy shit.” She opens the message from Monty and her eyes widen as she reads further down. “Holy shit.”

Lexa leans over to her side. “What happened?”

“It’s Jasper,” she chuckles. “Look. He’s going to Malaysia. Kuala Lumpur, Johor Bahru, Penang Hill, Taiping. From start to end of August. Booked all the fancy hotels and he’s flying with… fucking _Emirates_ , Lexa. The commercials we see on TV with all those famous actors and sports people.”

Lexa’s eyebrows are practically touching her hairline. “How much is he spending?”

Clarke finds the price and her eyes widen like saucers. “Over thirty-five grand,” she whispers incredulously. “Fuck. And that’s just flights and accommodation. The whole trip could go well over forty thousand dollars. And look, Monty says he’s planning _more_.”

“More? But how—“

“He’s going to a different country every month for the next two years. It’s all booked, Lexa. This is…”

“He’s going to spend over 900 thousand in two years,” Lexa concludes. “And that’s assuming he would spend exactly 40 thousand dollars on each trip, which I highly doubt. He will run himself to the ground.”

“He’s counting on the additional hundred grand,” Clarke realises. At Lexa’s confused look, she hastens to explain: “Nia promised us a million upfront and the original payment once the job is done. Obviously, we’re not going to get that one, because I’m going to screw her over, but _Jasper_ doesn’t know that.” She suddenly turns to the brunette, gripping a slender upper arm. “Lexa, I have to warn him. I—“

“Clarke. No.”

She hopes she looks as bewildered as she feels. “What do you mean _no_ , Lexa? He’s my friend, I can’t just let him—“

“Yes, you can,” Lexa cuts off with exasperation. The CEO turns her body to fully face her. “You might still care for him, but he’s not your friend, Clarke. How many times do you plan to let them walk all over you? He tried to ruin your life, Clarke. _Our_ lives, for that matter. I understand that you’re driven to fix everything for everyone, but he doesn’t deserve that kindness from you. Or _any_ kindness.”

“But—“

“He is _not_ a good person, Clarke”, Lexa cuts her off again, knowing exactly what her argument was going to be. “He is not misguided either. He’s someone who can neither take responsibility nor accept the word ‘no’. You can’t keep saving them time and again only to have them turn against you every time things don’t go their way.” Clarke knows her expression is still troubled, because Lexa sighs and takes both her hands, turning very serious. “I’ll tell you what – if you warn him, I will lose the trial on purpose.” Clarke opens her mouth to protest, but Lexa is quick to keep talking: “I will _not_ let you keep suffering for them, Clarke. I know how much it hurts you every time they take a jab at you. I can see it in your eyes, and it destroys me to see you like that. I won’t… I _can’t_ – let you keep sticking your neck out for people who would not sacrifice a _hair_ for you.”

Clarke carefully slips her hands out from between Lexa’s. Just as green eyes are clouding with worry, she takes Lexa’s face in her hands, then slides them to her neck, cupping it as her thumbs brush over a cutting jawline. Her eyes take on a serious, earnest glint, with unalloyed honesty. “I love you.”

Lexa’s is that awestruck gaze, eyes wide and lips parted, looking younger than she ever does; Clarke could never get enough of it. It’s endearing how this amazing woman, who is all at once bright, powerful, beautiful and kind, thinks it so baffling that someone might love her, and holds onto it with such naïve devoutness. For all her inner strength, Lexa is someone who needs love just as much as she gives it. Lexa, who just _loves_ so much, has no idea how to do it sometimes. And Clarke knows that the act of loving Lexa includes helping her learn the how as well as fight the fears telling her to close her heart.

 

* * *

 

Coming home after being with Lexa doesn’t really feel like it anymore. Maybe it’s because Lexa’s loft is sort of home already. Maybe it’s because Lexa herself is home, ass cheesy as that may be. The mail piling on her mailbox reminds her that this is still very much her home.

As she picks up the mail, she’s reminded that adulting sucks. Bills to pay, bank account shit, fast food and plumbing flyers. The usual. One envelope stands to attention though. CPEP. Now that’s important.

She tears the envelope and pries the letter from it, opening it to read its contents. As she reads through it, she’s filled with a sense of both dread and elation.

“Well, fuck me.”

 

* * *

 

Her night is all but restless. All because of that damn letter. On the one hand, it filled her with excitement. On the other hand, it made her extremely anxious. Balancing everything on her plate has never been Clarke’s forte. Something always manages to slip through her fingers.

It’s with great effort, then, that she opens her eyes so she can reach for her phone and take the call when it starts buzzing at half past fucking nine am. Lexa’s tone of urgency is what awakens her fully.

“Clarke, I need you to come over as soon as possible. We have a situation.”

“Wait, wait,” Clarke urges before Lexa can hang up. “Come over where?”

“Polis.”

Which is where she finds herself forty minutes later, her stomach grumbling over the lack of breakfast. Luckily, Lexa is a saint and the moment Clarke barges into the room she was told Lexa would be in, the brunette slides a plateful of croissants her way.

“Oh my god, I love you,” she breathes as she sits down across from her lover, before shoving half a croissant in her mouth, moaning at the taste. Amazing.

Lexa’s eyebrow rises in amusement and it is only then that Clarke notices her that there are other people in the room. Indra, Anya, Gustus, Luna, and a young man who looks eerily familiar, whom she assumes to be Aden, are there as well, sitting at the long table, and they all just witnessed her fine display of ultimate gormandizing. Oh well. She’s only human.

“If you’re done gorging that entire plate of fine French patisserie,” Anya starts sardonically, “we would like to begin our meeting.” Clarke rolls her eyes, but takes one last bit at her second croissant. “Anyway, I think it’s better if Lexa tells you what happened.”

Clarke turns to the green-eyed beauty expectantly, who was apparently marvelling at her this whole time. Lexa clears her throat and the mood shifts. “Right. Jasper gave an interview.” _Oh, no._ “And it is not flattering.”

Clarke can’t help a heavy sigh. “What does it say?”

“It exposes your whole team, how you first went after Nathan, past cases, sleeping with some of your so-called victims. Everything you did as…” Lexa trails off, searching for the right term.

“We called it the break upper,” Clarke finishes.

“Would it not be the breaker upper instead?”

“I don’t know,” she frowns. “Never even occurred to me.”

“It makes sense,” Lexa argues. “Just like that kids’ song, the fixer upper. Your title is wrong, Clarke. It’s the breaker upper.”

“Well, it’s too late to change it now. I don’t even do it anymore.”

Lexa shrugs. “At least now you—“

“Okay, are we done?” Both heads turn to Anya and find her signature annoyed expression. “Here’s the thing, we’ve lost our edge. We can’t play the star-crossed lovers card anymore.”

Well. That was their only card.

“Not exactly,” Lexa intervenes, to everyone’s surprise. “The public loves nothing more than a redemption story. If we mix it together with the star-crossed lovers angle, we can be even more convincing.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Anya enquires, crossing her arms.

Lexa thinks, Lexa ponders, Lexa stays quiet for a full five minutes while the whole room waits expectantly. Clarke thinks she may have been holding her breath for the past five minutes when Lexa finally speaks, her message deafening in the silent room despite being almost whispered:

“We need the media there.”

 

* * *

 

When they all leave the room they were in, Clarke is feeling a lot lighter and more confident. It helps when she’s walking side by side with Lexa, who is always such a strong, safe presence beside her.

“Clarke,” Lexa starts, getting her attention. “I have not yet introduced you. This is Aden Parsons,” the brunette gestures at who Clarke already assumed to be the person in question, his ginger-ish blonde hair and boyish green eyes making him look younger than he probably is, “my associate, apprentice, and one day, successor.”

Lexa says this with such pride; it’s impossible not to immediately like this fresh-faced twenty-something that sticks his hand out with a big smile. Clarke takes it fondly.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Miss Griffin,” he smiles genuinely. “Miss Woods has gushed much about you.”

Clarke does nothing to stifle a big smirk and prevent a smug eyebrow from rising above its twin. “Oh has she?” Aden seems to realise his mistake and starts spluttering his correction. She decides to have mercy on him — and Lexa, whose cheeks are a deep red, probably from trying so violently not to blush — and squeezes his hand. “I’m just kidding. It’s great to meet you too, Mr Parsons.”

“Please, call me Aden.”

“Then you’ll have to call me Clarke.”

He smiles widely as he lets go of her hand. “You have a deal.”

“Excuse me, Miss Woods.” Clarke turns to see an employer she doesn’t recognise, who seems both awestruck and terrified to be talking to Lexa. “Would you please come and help me with something?”

“Of course, Mr Hill.” Lexa turns to the group, eyes locking with Clarke’s. “I will be right back.”

Just as Lexa is out the door, Anya turns to Clarke, eyes flaming. The blonde can’t help but step back before Anya’s towering presence.

“Listen here, blondie. She seems intent on keeping you… Typical Lexa, picking strays up from the streets and getting attached. At least you won’t pee on her rugs.”

“Wha—“

“But if you hurt her,” Anya growls, effectively shutting Clarke up. “If you hurt her, skin you alive, and then I’ll make you bleed out, and once you’re dead, I’ll break all your teeth and quarter you, so no one can ever identify your corpse.” Clarke gulps, utterly terrified of Lexa’s best friend. “Understood?” Her only thought is to nod. She must do it, because Anya’s lips curl into a self-satisfied smirk. “Good. I look forward to knowing you better.”

And with that, she’s out of sight. Clarke looks around her helplessly. Gustus gives her a sympathetic smile and lays a kind paw on her shoulder, before leaving as well. Indra nods at her, probably an attempt at sympathy, and leaves to do her business.

“Um, Clarke?”

“Yeah?” she turns to face Aden, whose face is scrunched up in indecision. Finally he seems to make up his mind and regards her fully.

“Look, I don’t want you to think I’m overstepping with this—“

“Are you going to warn me against hurting Lexa, too?” she smirks.

“No! No, no, no, you uh… I’m pretty sure you won’t. I just wanted to talk to you about something. Can we sit?” he asks, pointing at the chairs waiting outside the room they just came out of.

“Of course.”

As soon as they’re sitting down, Aden leans closer, talking in a hushed voice. “I don’t want you to think that I’m excusing what you do, or did, with this story. None of that is my place. I just wanted to tell you.” He sighs, as though readying himself, as his hands fiddle with each other. “My dad used to hit my mom. Whenever he came home drunk, which was often, he’d beat her up pretty badly. Always in the right places, so no one would see. He also cheated on my mom; he’d go as far as bringing women – younger women – home and- you know. That was actually our salvation. It all happened five years ago, when Miss Woods first took me in has her apprentice. I never look at the ads on the newspaper, but that day… One day I did, and I saw your ad, saying you could help women get rid of their cheating husbands. I still don’t know what came over me – well, us – then, but I showed it to my mom and we called your number. Long story short,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, “you helped us get rid of my dad. After that, my mom had the courage and the means to send him to jail for a long time. I’ll say it again, I’m not telling you this to clear your conscience or whatever, I just… You did some good. You made some questionable choices further down the road, but- I’m thankful for what you did, at least at the beginning. You helped some people. You saved my mom. I hope it reminds you that what you used to do wasn’t all bad, at least not from where I’m standing. I think maybe there are some things to regret, but there’s also a lot to be proud of. I’m not trying to be that person that tells you their sob story and makes everything, even the bad, worth it. I don’t know if it was or not, I’m not here to be the judge of that. I’m just saying – you did some good.”

Upon hearing his words, Clarke smiles sadly. She knows they did some good at the beginning. A lot, actually. If only they’d stopped there. Still, it means a lot to be reminded that they used to help people, and hear it from someone whose life was improved by their actions. And she remembers Aden’s face now, he was there, five years ago, a scrawny kid looking in from the window as her team talked to his mom. That’s why he looked familiar in the other room.

“You know, it’s funny,” he pipes up. “Miss Woods was aware, more than she ever let on. So after the gala, which I wasn’t at, she had Titus run this huge background check on all of you, your whole team – and then she called me over and asked me if those were the people that helped us. I could only remember your face, for some reason. So I pointed at your picture,” he demonstrates, pointing at a would-be computer screen in front of them, “and said, ‘that’s her. That’s the girl that saved my mom’. And I think… I think she was fascinated ever since.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t know the half of it then,” Clarke sighs.

“She does now,” Aden supplies meaningfully, his eyes boring into Clarke’s. “And she loves you. That’s gotta mean something.” They don’t break eye contact as their smiles widen, a connection freshly established.

That’s when Lexa chooses to reappear, halting at the sight of two of her favourite people already getting along. When she sees the brunette, Clarke’s face brightens and breaks into a delighted grin. Lexa stops a few feet away from then, blank expression but for the warmth in her eyes.

“Are you ready to go, Clarke?”

Clarke nods and hugs Aden goodbye, standing up to walk beside Lexa. Once completely alone in the elevator, she loops her arm around Lexa’s and kisses her cheek. She can see the corner of Lexa’s lips pull up into a satisfied smile.

“He’s adorable.”

“Very much so,” Lexa agrees with a smirk, needing no context to know who Clarke is talking about. “But he can also be just as cunning as I am.”

“He really is your clone, then.”

Lexa turns to her with a raised eyebrow. “I am not adorable.”

She simply snorts, leaving the brunette without an answer. Her arm leaves Lexa’s and snakes around the lithe waist she loves. She rests her cheek against Lexa’s shoulder, letting out a pleased sigh. The feeling of being so close to Lexa gets even better when the woman brings an arm up to wrap around her shoulders. Clarke can’t help but place another kiss on her favourite high-set cheeks.

They just stand there, happily and silently basking in the other’s closeness.

Until the elevator doors open. Having just pulled apart, they both notice a tall, gangly figure with his arms crossed, leaning against one of the pillars of the main entrance, waiting for them with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Wait,” Lexa says, keeping the doors open with a hand. Clarke watches as she pulls out her phone and taps a contact name. “Gustus? Yes. There seems to be a glitch in the main lodge cameras. You had better check that. While you’re at it, make sure that the hall is empty. Wouldn’t want anything to happen while the cameras are off.” Not ten seconds have passed before Lexa thanks her assistant and disconnects the call, pocketing her phone. Only then does she take Clarke’s hand and guide her towards their visitor, who pushes off the pillar as they approach. Halfway there, Lexa lets go of her hand and paces toward him in powerful strides, fire burning in icy green eyes.

“Hello, la—“

Jasper has barely opened his mouth when Lexa’s fist connects with his face, sucker punching his snide remark back down his throat. He falls to the floor with a miserable wail, holding his face and rolling on the floor like he’s just been shot.

“I’m suing you!” he screeches as he tries to stand up, but fails. With the hand that isn’t holding onto the injured side of his face, he wags his index finger crazily at them. “I’m suing both of you bitches!”

Lexa steps up to him, looking down at his ridiculous shrinking figure. “I dare you,” she growls lowly, so cold it pulls the room temperature down.

“You will go down,” he spews, and spits on her shoes. It comes with a bit of blood.

Lexa bends down and grabs the lapels of his blazer, pulling him up to meet her eyes. When she speaks, her tone is positively chilling. “The cameras are off. There is not a soul in here. It is my word against yours. If you ever try to slander me, I will hit you with a lawsuit so big you would have to be a billionaire to be able to pay for it. So. Get a new cheekbone to make up for the one I just punched out of your sleazy face? Or pay for a lawsuit you are never going to win? It is up to you, Mr Jordan.”

He whimpers pitifully and turns to face Clarke, giving her his best kicked puppy eyes. “Clarke? Help me? Please?”

She steels herself and truly, when it comes down to it, after her earlier conversation with Lexa, and with the brunette now looking at her like she’ll catch her every time, it’s a surprisingly easy choice. Still, it’s not so easy to execute. To make it final. Resolution.

With her jaw locked and lips pressed into a thin line, gaze firmly locked onto his, Clarke shakes her head no.

Lexa turns back to pierce Jasper with her stare and tightens her hold on his blazer, fisting the lapels closer to his face. She whispers a single growling word, before releasing him.

“Leave.”

Clarke is pretty sure that he’s never run so fast in his life.

 

* * *

 

The two slump on the couch (or rather, Lexa sits carefully down, elegant as ever, while Clarke slumps down gracelessly), exhaustion seeping from their bones. Clarke is still reeling from the whole Jasper situation back at Polis.

“That… was great, babe”, she breathes out, patting Lexa’s forearm in praise. Lexa takes her hand and brings it up to kiss her knuckles.

“ _You_ were great, Clarke.” Lexa turns to face her fully, eyes sincere. “I get that it isn’t easy. Letting go of someone you love never is.”

Clarke shrugs helplessly. “I had to do it. I did it for me, for you, and for him. He needed it, too. He needs to be more independent and learn to solve his own problems.” Lexa nods in agreement. ”Speaking of,” she pulls their joined hands onto her lap as she sits up straighter, “I need to talk to you about something.” She has Lexa’s full attention now; not that she doesn’t have it every time, but there are times when Lexa gazes into her eyes so deeply that Clarke feels that it’s not just her voice that the brunette is hearing, but also her heart. “I got a letter today, from CPEP. You know, where I’m enrolling for that medicine re-entry program.” Lexa nods at her to continue. “Someone gave up on their best program and they have a vacancy for me. You know my original plan was six months working as a resident here in New York, and they agreed to it, as long as they had someone from CPEP here to supervise. But now… Lexa, they’re offering me three months of intensive learning in Colorado and another month of residency wherever I choose to work, which is here of course, just to get used to it, no need for extra-hospital supervision. That means I’d be done in four months instead of six and with possibly better training.”

“That seems like an excellent option, Clarke.”

“Yes, but… It’s three months in _Colorado_ , halfway across the country, away from _you_ , and—” She inhales deeply and takes hold of Lexa’s hand, placing it in her lap, playing with her long fingers. “I just got you back. It’s terrifying to imagine leaving you for a week, let alone for a month, much less _three_.”

Lexa nods in understanding. “It is your future, Clarke. Your decision.”

“No, it’s _our_ decision, Lexa. I want you to be part of it,” Clarke says firmly. “I plan to have a future with you and that means that from now on, we make decisions as a unit. This doesn’t just have an impact my life. It influences yours, too. I know that ultimately, it’s my dream, but I want your input and I want us to reach a decision together.”

Lexa slips her hand from Clarke’s and pulls her legs onto the couch as she turns her body fully to face the blonde, her legs crossed. Clarke mirrors the brunette’s position, so they’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing each other. Then she takes Lexa’s hand back in hers, because who in their right mind wouldn’t.

“Clarke,” Lexa starts, and she loves hearing her name coming from those pouty lips, the ‘r’ rolled and the ‘k’ clicked in a way that no one else can ever match. “I trust you completely. I also want what is best for you. In my opinion, you should do what you think will make you happier. That said, I want you to know that you could leave for a year and I would still wait for you to come back. What you said applies to us both. I want to build a future with you, too.”

“So you’re confident that we can handle the distance?” Clarke asks insecurely. She knows her answer, but she wants to know Lexa’s.

“I haven’t the slightest doubt.”

“Me either,” Clarke breathes with relief, a smile tugging at her lips. “We can talk every day, that’s what FaceTime and Skype are for. And three months fly by in an instant, right?” Lexa nods in agreement. “And when I come back, I’m relationshipping the hell out of you.”

Lexa huffs out a shy laugh, looking down. When she looks back up, her eyes are shining with mirth and anticipation. “I certainly hope so.”

“But first,” Clarke raises a finger with a smirk. She leans into Lexa’s space, causing the brunette to lean back against the arm of the couch, and crawls into her personal space. Her hands, on ether side of Lexa’s torso, hold her up as she lowers herself so she can be face to face with the brunette. “We have to crush Nia and her minions at the trial.”

Lexa, breathing hard and looking absolutely godly underneath her, green eyes wide and lips parted, musters the strength to work up a smirk and place a hand on the back of Clarke’s neck, pulling her closer.

“Let’s rain on their parade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: in an earlier version, Aden said that his dad brought young girls home. I see now that it caused some confusion. I always meant young girls as in younger women, people of age.
> 
> Hope it was worth the wait. And please tell me if you detect any glaring typos or mistakes, I didn't have a lot of time to edit this. Two chapters to go, and the last one is halfway written :)


	22. "let's rain on their parade"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for a LOT of monologues. It's the trial, so they have to talk a lot. This is not my best chapter, because of that and because it was written over months, but I had to get this out there, so here it is. No regrets xD the next chapter will be much, much better and I'll write it much, much faster. I promise. Still, I think the ending is pretty sweet, so I'm happy.
> 
> I wanted to have it up sooner, but half of it was on my computer, the other half was on my phone, and I wasn't home, so I couldn't join the two parts. Anyway, here it is :)

The trial is held in a large, oval room, big enough to fit about fifty people. There are two desks at the centre, facing each other, where Lexa and Nia are sitting. Against the wall to Lexa's right (and Nia's left), with equal view of the duelling pair, is a long table, where the mediator — Clarke knows Lexa has him in his pocket; something regarding a decade-old favour, if she remembers correctly — and the board members sit. Chairs line the walls — or wall, considering that the room is oval — where everyone who is watching or will be giving their testimony is sitting. Clarke got a great spot: against the wall across from the board's table, almost facing the mediator, with a clear line of sight to both Nia and Lexa.

Strangely enough, the journalists have not arrived yet. Their nest by the double doors is weirdly vacant. The trial is about to begin and Lexa's promised journalists are not here. It worries Clarke, for she knows that everything needs to be perfect.

There are several folders and documents on Lexa's desk, which she keeps organising to perfection. One might think she's a perfectionist — which she is —, but Clarke knows it's Lexa's way to ward off her nerves.

Despite the media's absence, Clarke is happy to register that none of her friends are here. Or rather, none of her ex-friends, Jasper and Bellamy. She already knew Raven and Octavia wouldn't be here, as it was part of the plan. Their presence is needed elsewhere, albeit close to the building. Close enough to work a few tricks.

Once everyone has gone quiet, the moderator turns to Nia, the challenger, and asks her what topic she would like to discuss first.

Nia stands up, all regal arrogance, throws the tip of her fur scarf behind her back, and her lips tear into a wolfish sneer. “I would like to address the invalidity of the incorporation of Skysafe Inc. As we all know, Mr Miller’s vote was the trick up Miss Woods’s sleeve to ensure that she was not overthrown in the previous meeting. Proving its unconstitutionality would mean that there is no sense to this trial and we can proceed to more important matters, such as discussing strategies under a new leadership. You see, Article 341 of our covenant states very clearly that every member of the board must be properly notified of every single meeting, at least two weeks prior; otherwise every decision made in said meeting becomes null. I was not notified of the meeting wherein Skysafe was voted into the company, which invalidates that decision. Skysafe is not a valid board member of Command and thus not an authorised voter. That means that Mr Miller’s vote, the one that saved his ‘fiancée’ from slaughter, should not be taken into account and—“ Nia licks her lips and leers at Lexa. “Well, you know the rest. Mind you, I am not afraid of facing Miss Woods in the planned length for this trial. I simply think it would be a waste of time to do so when Command is in such deep crisis, may I remind you, because of her.”

Lexa rolls her eyes in sync with Clarke. The moderator turns to her then, a kind smile on his face. “Miss Woods, would you like to contest Ms Queen’s claims?”

Lexa nods gravely and stands, clasping her hands behind her back. Clarke can’t help but feel her chest swell with pride for her girlfriend. Or whatever they call each other these days. “I would very much like to contest Ms Queen’s false claims, and I will take even more pleasure in proving them wrong.” Lexa sorts through her folders and picks one from the pile, opening it and sifting through it. She chooses two files and pulls them to the side, facedown. She then addresses the room. “Just as Ms Queen said, correctly I might add, every board member must be properly notified about every meeting, at lest two weeks prior. What she failed to mention, however, is that she was, in fact, notified about the meeting that ended up resulting in the incorporation of Skysafe into Command. More than once, actually. If she chose to ignore the warnings and notifications, then that is no one’s fault but her own. Let’s talk about, for example, about the e-mail that my personal assistant, Mr Augustus Parsons, sent to her work e-mail address.” Lexa takes one of the files she pulled apart and places it on a scanner projector next to her table. The image of an email, with every element needed to prove its existence, send date, and receiver appears on the wall to Clarke’s right. “As you can all see, this message was sent three weeks before the meeting, which took place in Amsterdam, roughly a month ago. I think there are no doubts as to whether it was sent or not. Still, if doubts remain,” she pulls the sheet from the projector, “I have further proof of our diligent care to notify Ms Queen of that fateful meeting.

“Also three weeks before the event, I sent one of my assistants, Titus Du, deliver the following letter – in person.” Lexa picks up the second file and puts it on the projector, revealing the contents of a letter, signed by Lexa herself. “Again, as you can see, we took every measure to ensure that Ms Queen was properly notified of what was to happen.”

“Well, that would hardly stand in court, seeing as you have no proof of delivery and reception,” Nia fires from her seat.

“That is true,” Lexa nods. “Or it would be, if we did not have this.” She pulls a third file from the folder and places it on the projector. What appears on the wall is a picture of Titus holding the letter in one hand and the day’s newspaper in the other, standing in front of what Clarke can only suppose is Nia’s house. “Is 16 East 69th Street your home or is it not?” Nia nods with a scowl. “Quite the beautiful mansion”, Lexa adds, and it’s all Clarke can do to stifle a snort. “If that is not yet to your standards of diligence, however, I will gladly up the ante.” Lexa replaces the picture with a fourth sheet of paper and what shows up dissipates whatever doubts might have persisted from the previous picture. It’s a selfie of a couple, one Clarke has never seen, smiling with Nia’s house as backdrop. The timing is surprisingly accurate, though: Nia’s door is open, she’s standing at the entrance of the house and Titus is clearly handing something to her. “Obviously, to take a picture into your intimacy would have been illegal,” Lexa continues, “We were lucky enough that a couple of tourists happened to be passing, took that selfie, and posted it on social media, where my team found it. The time markings also leave no room for doubt. That letter was delivered, in person, to Ms Queen. Hand to hand. I rest my case. For now,” she finishes with a good-natured smirk that draws chuckles from the whole room.

Clarke can barely contain a shit-eating grin. She knows Lexa had inside help to make sure that Nia never opened that email or that envelope. The business world might not always be pretty, but it sure is entertaining.

There’s noise outside the room and Clarke turns to the glass double doors. Her eyes widen at the commotion outside, with about twenty people with cameras, microphones, and what not piling at the door, eagerly looking in, being kept out only by three or four bulking security members. A moment later, Lexa is at the door, opening it so she can talk to the journalists outside, while making sure that everyone inside can hear her loud and clear.

“You are late. The trial has already started.”

“We were told to be here at three p.m., Miss Woods,” a journalist argues.

“Then someone didn’t do their job properly,” sighs Lexa, stepping aside. “My apologies for that. You may come in.”

“Wait.” Every head turns to Nia, who has stood up, eyes burning with contempt. “The media cannot attend board meetings. It’s stated very clearly in Article 276.”

Lexa turns to Nia, hands clasped behind her back, eyebrow rising in challenge. “Article 276 states very clearly, as you put it, that the media cannot attend board meetings. However, Article 277, subparagraph b-ii also states very clearly that if solicited by a party, the media may attend a challenge trial.”

“Well, subparagraph b-iii clarifies that the board has to ratify the media’s presence. I doubt that our ever moderate board members will want yet another media fest to sprout from your festering leadership,” Nia growls.

“Believe me, the board will want everyone to know that Command is a role model for every company in the United States. The board will want to sanction the media’s presence, once they know what I am about to prove”, Lexa counters, her calm contrasting with Nia’s cold rage.

“And what are you about to prove, Miss Woods?” one of the board members, from Broadleaf, Clarke thinks, pipes up.

Everyone’s attention shifts to him, then to Lexa. She maintains her blank expression, betraying no emotion.

“I am about to prove that it was Ms Queen’s actions that caused the scandal, and it was her intention all along.”

The room breaks into turmoil, whispers and grumbles and gasps filling the silence. Eyes travel from Nia, to Lexa, to the board, to Clarke herself. The board members talk amongst themselves, surely deciding whether to let the media in. Some minutes later, the moderator asks for silence and the whole room quiets down, turning to the board and listening intently.

This time, it’s Luna speaking. “The board has decided to let the media in. We request, however, that the trial go on uninterrupted from this moment on. No more disturbances will be allowed, or else the disrupting party will be asked to leave.”

The journalists burst into the room, setting up as quickly and silently as possible. With the new set up, there’s a camera to Lexa’s left, facing Nia; another one to Nia’s right, facing Lexa; and a third one, between the other two, that has a 360-degree view of the room, devised to film the board with a frontal shot — and, she’s well aware, capture every one of Clarke’s reactions. Those cameras all belong to the same TV station, though Clarke can’t really tell which one. Finally, the double doors nest over a dozen journalists, quietly introducing the scene and ready to go live.

She realises, then, what is about to happen. Lexa is going to turn this into a social cause.

It is that moment that Lexa chooses to turn to Nia with a veiled smirk. "Why don't you go first with the witnesses, Ms Queen? Being the older one of us and all."

Nia seethes quietly for a moment, before standing up and regarding the crowd. "I call Clarke Griffin to the table."

Clarke stands up and heads to Nia's table, letting a thick binder slam on the wooden top. The woman lets her sit down on her chair and chooses to remain standing. This way, she can tower over Clarke with her wolfish smile. "Tell me, Miss Griffin. When you first met Miss Woods, was she in a relationship?"

"Yes."

"What stage of said relationship was she at?"

"She was engaged. To Nathan Miller of Skysafe Inc."

"Very well. Would you say that she pursued you?"

"Well- yes, but- I can't say it wasn't mutual," Clarke adds. Lexa told her to give Nia a false sense of security, but she has to be careful not to let it benefit the witch too much. "Her advances were never unwanted."

Nia raises an eyebrow, but plays along. "I understand. After all, Miss Woods is a beautiful young lady. Perhaps too young and too beautiful for her own good and the good of this company, but that's another story entirely," the witch adds smoothly. "Besides, she has a lot of money."

"Yes, I agree. She's a very appealing bachelorette."

"Except she's not one," Nia points out. "She's engaged."

"Not now, she isn't," Clarke reveals. "They called it off. Amicably."

She can see Nia's hands flexing, as though trying to hold on to a conversation that's rapidly getting away from her. "But she was engaged, then. When you too started your little... Dalliance. Actually, maybe I should not mince my words. Your affair."

Clarke shrugs. Time to pounce. "You didn't seem too worried about that when you hired me to make sure that the wedding would never happen."

Nia blanches and so do her allies. The rest of the room zero in on Clarke like hawks. However, only one person's reaction matters to her. That person has that tiny smile she loves on pouty lips, green eyes looking at her in muted adoration.

Nia is quick to recover. "Tread very carefully, Miss Griffin," the bitch hisses with a saccharine smile. "Accusations like that could get you in very big trouble."

"I won't be intimated by threats. Especially from you," Clarke adds with disdain. She turns to the room. "Less than six months ago, an Azgeda representative approached my team with a job. All I had to do was break Miss Woods and Mr Miller up and make it news."

The noise in the room escalates, whispers and conversation lasting for long minutes, until Luna manages to get everyone to quiet down.

"Miss Griffin," the young entrepreneur calls, playing her part. "We are going to need you to explain exactly how one is hired for a service like that."

Clarke and Lexa share a look and Clarke inconspicuously taps her earpiece twice. It takes only a few seconds for the journalists to start trying to figure out what's wrong with their device of choice. Of course, they can't say anything about it, because of Luna's warning. Clarke can't help a tiny smirk and sends her mental thanks to Raven and Octavia. She then turns to Luna, expression open.

"It's what I used to do for a living. We broke couples up for a variety of reasons. Women who were victims of domestic violence and were too afraid to go to the police would come to us. Wives who knew their husbands were cheating but couldn't prove it. Eventually, however, we lost our way and started taking jobs for dubious reasons." She taps twice on her earpiece again and turns to her scary, tender businesswoman with loving eyes. "Lexa was my wake up call."

By then, all devices are fully functional again. Before she can continue, Nia takes over. "That will be all, Miss Griffin."

Clarke goes to stand up, but the moderator stops her. "Wait." He turns to Lexa. "Do you wish to ask Miss Griffin some questions?"

Lexa pretends to ponder. Then she hums softly and nods solemnly. "Yes." She stands up and walks around her table, before perching on the edge of it, the one closest to Clarke, slightly turned to one side. Her posture is friendly, not menacing. Even if it were menacing, Clarke wouldn't see it that way, because to her, Lexa is anything but.

"Miss Griffin, do you have proof of what you are saying?"

Clarke opens her binder and pulls out a USB stick. "This can corroborate that Echo White, Azgeda employee and one of Ms Queen's most trusted advisors, was in my friend's café, making us an offer. There's audio, too. He has a warning on the door, so she would've known she was being filmed. Nothing illegal." She takes out another USB stick. "After some time trying to seduce Mr Miller and failing, as not to mention- well, falling in love with you," she adds, feeling slightly flustered, "I put an end to the job. Nevertheless, Ms Queen managed to convince two of my colleagues to keep working for her. They hacked into my cell phone while you and I were on a trip; they invaded our privacy, and sold what they got to the media. This is has image and audio of their unwitting confession. And this," she continues, pulling out several sheets of paper, "is an extract of their bank accounts, which they so kindly provided." Better say that than to admit they had Monty hack into Bellamy and Jasper's computers. "It proves that they got quite the generous compensation for breaking the law." And this is why she needed them to get paid despite their wrongdoings. It was also the only way that Lexa would accept it. "I'm not proud of some of the things I did," she tells the whole room. "I know that I have to atone for them and I know that some people will never forgive me. I'll tell you, though, that if a man cheats, it's his own fault. I never pushed any boundaries. I never forced myself on anyone. If men cheat, and if they ruin their lives doing it, they have no one to hold accountable for it but themselves. Don't try to blame me for your own mistakes." She reaches for Lexa's hand and takes it. "I'm learning not to take the blame for other people's mistakes. It's easier to just excuse everyone and bear everything so they don't have to. I'm tired of that. And Lexa? I blame you." Everyone's eyes widen. "I blame you for making me see reason, I blame you for steering me away from a wrong path, I blame you for giving me a reason to be better. Most of all, I blame you for making me fall in love with you."

It's corny, it's cheesy, and it works like a charm. She has the room in her and, most importantly, Lexa's favour.

Lexa clears her throat, effectively breaking the moment, though not the atmosphere.

"You have run me out of questions, Miss Griffin," she says with a softness that makes Clarke's heart clench.

People chuckle all around the room and Lexa stands up and rounds her table again. Clarke goes back to her chair, only then remembering that Nia was still there and waiting for her seat to vacate. Too bad.

The mediator intervenes once more, turning to Lexa. "Miss Woods, is there anyone else you would like to pose questions to?"

"Thank you, Mrs O'Connell. As a matter of fact, I do. I would like to interview my former fiancé, Nathan Miller." Gasps run around the crowd as Nate leaves the board members' table and approaches Lexa's. She goes to stand up, but he holds her hand and squeezes it, shaking his head a little with a tender smile. She remains sitting as he stands between the two tables.

It warms Clarke's heart to see such a beautiful display of affection between the two best friends. The cameras turn to her, expecting jealously, but all they get is a genuine, proud smile.

"Hello, Mr Miller," Lexa starts, drawing an affectionate eye roll from him.

"Hello, Miss Woods," he nods with a smirk.

"Is it true that Ms Queen approached you in attempt to steer your vote against me?"

"Objection!"

Everyone turns to Nia with one or both eyebrows raised.

"We are not in court, Ms Queen," Lexa says, words so careful they sound mocking.

Nia scoffs. "It seems like it."

"But it isn't," the moderator adds. "So unless you have something relevant to add, Ms Queen, I recommend that you remain respectfully quiet while Miss Woods interviews your fellow board member."

Nia seethes but relents and Lexa nods, happy to proceed. She turns back to Nate. "Do you have an answer to my question?"

"Indeed I do. Yes, Ms Queen did approach me in hopes of influencing my vote. She tried to stir any ill feelings I might have after you 'betrayed me'", he says, drawing air quotes with his fingers, "and assured me that the future with be much brighter with her in your seat."

Lexa hums pensively, as though just now being the wiser to this piece of information. "Did Ms Queen offer you any kind of compensation for your vote?"

"Well, she told me that she'd found an effective way to kick you to the curve, promised me that she wouldn't annul my company's entry into Command, and suggested that we might even get some favours if we felt to inclined to turn things her way."

Lexa tuts, levelling Nia with a defiant stare. "How careless, Ms Queen." She turns her attention back to Nate. "And when was all that?"

"Before the meeting where Ms Queen tried to vote you out of Command."

The room goes eerily silent. Lexa nods and takes some notes, before resting her pencil back on the table top. "I have no more questions."

The moderator turns to Nia. "Ms Queen?"

The woman nods and stands up, straightening her blazer. Miller sits on the edge of her table, which forces her to walk around it and stand next to Lexa so she can face him.

"Are you aware that your ex-fiancée is in the epicentre of a scandal that has shaken the very foundations of this coalition?"

"What I know is that you appear to have caused it," he argues smoothly. "If you didn't want an earthquake, maybe you shouldn't have moved the plaques."

Nia's nostrils flare, but she ploughs on. "Mr Miller, do I have to remind you that Miss Woods cheated on you and ruined your engagement by choosing a high-end prostitute for a bedfellow?"

"You don't," he smirks. "I just don't think you have yours fact straight. Neither do I, to be honest."

"Mr Miller, are you not at all bothered by what your fiancée did to you?" Nia growls. "And what does that even mean?"

"I am not, Ms Queen. And—"

"Why?" she almost yells, exasperated.

His smile is slow and sardonic. "Because I'm gay."

People start talking over each other, louder and louder, and it takes a lot of hardly composed yelling from Luna to get everyone to shut up. On her part, Clarke locks eyes with Lexa, whose lips are drawn in a proud smile, and then with Nate, who winks at her. They've come a long way from the days when she was trying to seduce him.

Nia shoos Nate away and he returns to his seat at the board members' table. Meanwhile, Lexa stands up and calls the room's attention to herself.

"I should explain," she says simply, and everyone either nods or agrees verbally. "Mr Miller and I are both homosexual. He is gay and I am a lesbian, yet neither of us ever felt comfortable enough to admit it to the world. We have been friends for a very long time and one day, while leisurely discussing the future of our companies, an idea came to be. After much thought, we decided to get married. Not to fool anyone, but to create a union that would benefit both of our companies. One not made of love, but of friendship. Homosexuality is frowned upon by the business world. I have personally come across countless homophobic comments from people who had no idea that I am gay. On the other hand, a married young person is usually considered more trustworthy than a single one, for a variety of reasons, which I could detail statistically, albeit at the very serious risk of boring you.” That draws chuckles from the room.

Clarke is in awe of her lover. Lexa has tipped the scales in a way that the social side of the debate will largely overshadow the economical and political sides. People will care that Lexa is gay, not that she tricked Nia out of all negotiations. By making it public, Lexa can play the victim and garner the support of millions, therefore forcing the board to behave and decide in her favour. She’s forcing the board’s hand by making it about whom she is, and how and why she had to hide it. It’s truthful, personal, cunning, and most of all genius.

“Miss Griffin gave me an out,” Lexa continues. “I was working to find us all a way to thrive, but Ms Queen decided that she wanted a scandal.”

“If I had done that, which I didn’t—“

“As if there is not enough proof—“ Lexa cuts in.

“Even so,” Nia counters haughtily. “I would have done everyone a favour. Fake or not, Miss Woods was engaged and she engaged in an affair with a prostitute. A female prostitute, to add insult to injury. Command cannot continue to identify with such promiscuous behaviour.”

“What promiscuous behaviour, Ms Queen?” Lexa growls, even though it’s barely over a whisper. “Feeling oppressed in the workplace to the point where one feels the need to fake an engagement? Feeling suffocated by public opinion to the extent where one is led to have a secret relationship within said fake engagement? Or is it fearing the reaction of a board that always shown contempt of all that is different so much that you feel the need to hide your true self?” Clarke can see all cameras turning to the board members’ table, where several of them are flushing red. Lexa doesn’t let up, though. “We need a new generation of leaders. Leaders like Roan Queen, who will respect your legacy, Ms Queen, and expand on it. Leaders like Miss Rivers, who by never going to war with the other water companies, built an empire of her own. Leaders like Aden Parsons, my loyal protégé, who I hope I will someday hand the leadership of Command to, so I can focus solely on Polis. That day is far away still, but that fact doesn’t defeat my point. We need a new generation of leaders and for those who are already in command to step up to the plate and show that they can broaden their horizons and leave bigotry behind. This is a new world we are living in. Learn how to live in it.”

“You say that as though homosexuality can be anything more than a hindrance in the business world,” Nia snickers, clearly delusional. She’s losing badly and she knows it, so she’s grasping at straws she should never have even glanced at. “I dare you to name five homosexual business leaders. You won’t get to three.”

Lexa smirks. The coup the grâce. The moment they have all been waiting for.

“Tim Cook, CEO of Apple. Mary Kay Henry, international president of SEIU. Barry Diller, chairman and senior executive of IAC. Peter Thiel, co-founder of PayPal. Peter Geffen, business magnate, I’m sure I don’t need to recite his CV for you,” Lexa states in a scathing tone. “Anthony Romero, executive director of ACLU.” Clarke swoons at Lexa’s perfect Spanish accent. “Darren Walker, president of Ford Foundation. Harvey Levin, founder and managing editor of TMZ. Tim Gill, founder of Gill Foundation. Nick Denton, CEO of Gawker Media. Brian Bickell, CEO of Shaftesbury. Andrew Swaffield, CEO of the Monarch Airlines Group. David Furnish, CEO of Rocket Entertainment Group. Stephen Clarke, CEO at WH Smith. Trevor Burgess, president and CEO of C1 Financial. Jan Grooding, group brand director at Aviva. Jason Grenfell-Gardner, president and CEO of IGI Laboratories. Anthony Watson, president and CEO of Uphold. Beth Brooke-Marciniak, global vice-chair of public policy of EY. Paul Reed, CEO of the integrated supply and trading division at BP. Claudia Brind-Woody, VP and managing director at IBM. Martine Rothblatt, co-CEO of the United Therapeutics Corp. António Simões,” Lexa says, with a perfect whatever-that-language-was accent, “CEO of HSBC Bank. Alan Joyce, CEO of Qantas. Inga Beale, CEO of Lloyd’s of London. It’s all on the Internet,” Lexa shrugs nonchalantly. ”But if you need more, I’ll give them to you. Nathan Miller, spearhead of Skysafe Inc. Luna Rivers, founder and CEO of Floukru. Both board members of Command. And of course, myself, Lexa Woods.”

The room erupts in cheers and applause and to be honest, Clarke is pretty sure the trial is over, because there isn’t a voice that can rise above the crowd.

It is several minutes later that Luna can finally scare the room into silence and looks at her fellow board members. They discuss in hushed voices and not a minute has passed when Luna clears her throat and addresses the room.

“In spite of the original plans and what the rules dictate, the board have decided that considering the evidence and arguments raised in the past hour, a week will not be necessary to reach a decision on the matter. Therefore, we ask that you leave the room in orderly fashion and give us a half hour to discuss. The verdict will be handed shortly. Thank you.”

With that, everyone flocks out of the room. Once outside, Clarke makes a beeline for Lexa, who greets her with a beautiful, lopsided smile. She goes further gives plump lips a peck. Said lips stretch even wider.

“How was I?” Lexa asks, almost shyly.

“You were brilliant. You nailed it. I’m pretty sure even Nia was rooting for you by the end of it.”

Lexa laughs freely, melodically, and Clarke melts to a puddle. The brunette finds her eyes with candour. “You were brilliant, too.”

It isn’t until a throat is cleared next to them that they leave each other’s eyes. Clarke turns to see Roan Queen, smirking at them. Only then does she notice that they’re standing in a slightly secluded area, away from cameras and business people alike. The longhaired, blue-eyed man extends his hand.

“Miss Woods. It has been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Lexa smirks and takes his hand in a firm handshake. “Likewise, Roan. I’m glad you kept your end of the deal.”

Roan shrugs and lets go of Lexa’s hand. “How could I not? It’s not everyday that you’re offered a whole company in return for some jugglery,” he winks, his voice lower. “Mother still has no idea how that letter disappeared.”

“It’s not just jugglery you gave me in return, Roan,” Lexa notes seriously. “I expect to have your loyalty, from now on. After all, I did hand you Azgeda on a silver platter.”

He nods solemnly, and then turns to Clarke. “Miss Griffin,” he greets, extending his hand. Clarke grasps it and he brings their joint hands to his lips, kissing the back of hers. “You were phenomenal in there. Please, don’t mind my mother’s insults.”

Clarke locks eyes with Lexa, before returning them to him and winking jocosely. “Don’t worry, it takes more than a viper’s poison to take me down.”

His smile broadens into a brilliant one and Clarke realises she likes him, despite his clear lack of trustworthiness.

“That’s the spirit. I can see why Miss Woods is so enamoured with you.” He nods at Lexa. “She’s a keeper. As are you, for the group.”

With that, he leaves just as silently as he arrived. Clarke tilts her head at Lexa, a question clear in her gaze.

“Don’t worry,” the CEO assuages. “Roan may be a strange man and he may act like a selfish prick, but his loyalties lie in the right place. I know he won’t betray me. Or Aden.”

Unable to stay a respectable distance from Lexa any longer, Clarke wraps her arms around the brunette’s waist and hugs her tightly. Strong arms envelope her shoulders and she tucks her head under Lexa’s chin, nuzzling the hollow of her throat. She breathes in Lexa’s scent, taking comfort from its freshness and constancy.

“I love you. You’re beautiful. You were brilliant out there. I can’t wait to take you home and ravish you.”

Lexa chuckles and holds her tighter. “I love you too. Thank you for doing this for me.”

The tip of Clarke’s nose traces a path along Lexa’s neck and behind a tiny ear. “Please don’t thank me for it.”

“Okay.”

She kisses the soft patch of skin behind Lexa’s ear. There is something she needs her girl to hear. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You have nothing to hide. You have nothing to be afraid of. There is nothing wrong with the way you love.” She leans back and captures Lexa’s stunning, green eyes with her blue ones. “You’re beautiful, alright? Beautiful. And I don’t mean your looks. This right here,” she places her open hand over Lexa’s heart, “is the most beautiful part of you.”

She sees Lexa’s throat bob and the next thing she knows, full lips are taking hers with a softness she never knew lips could muster. She tastes the love, drinks the gratitude, and returns them with reassurance.

They spent the remainder of the half hour hugging and talking in hushed tones about anything and everything, breaths easy and sheltered in one another’s arms.

 

* * *

 

The atmosphere in the room, when they get called back, is of cautious optimism. There’s a nervous thrill in the air and Clarke can’t wait for the verdict. She knows it will be favourable, or at least she’s ninety-nine per cent sure of it, but there’s always this tiny bit, this one per cent of uncertainty that makes her body buzz with excitement and her hand close in an even stronger grip on Lexa’s — who tries not to wince at having her hand crushed by Clarke’s.

Everyone is just sitting up, waiting for Luna to give all of them the closure they need. Clarke and Lexa have been on borrowed time for too long. Only once Luna reads out the verdict will they finally feel like their future is their own.

Luna stands up at last and everyone goes silent, waiting to hear her.

“Thank you for giving us the time we requested”, the curly-haired woman starts. “The board is usually given a week to deliberate, however, in light of the facts presented to us today, we realised that a decision would take much less than a week to be reached. As such, and keeping in mind that every decision has to be unanimous, the board finds best that Alexandria Woods remain as chief executive officer of Command, therefore nullifying Virginia Queen’s challenge. Additionally, the board have decided that unless there is a change in leadership and a clear show of loyalty from said new administration, Azgeda’s position in Command should be thoroughly reconsidered.”

Everything is a blur after that. Clarke remembers hugging Lexa, kissing her even, despite everyone in the room and the cameras flashing to capture the moment. She remembers being congratulated by several people and letting Lexa be sucked in by the joyous crows. She remembers getting Lexa back a few minutes later, only for them to be pulled in separate directions by the media. She remembers getting a precious nod of approval from Indra, a bear hug from Gustus, a bright smile and ecstatic hug from Aden, and even a friendly pat (more like a really heavy clap) on the back from Anya that leaves her back aching for a while. “I knew you would do,” she remembers the dirty blonde saying proudly.

Later, much later, Clarke and Lexa are crammed into a booth at some bar near Command, with beers in their hands and their friends all around them. After a round of proper, although brief introductions, Clarke’s trio of friends, and Anya and Nate easily melded into one group. Anya and Raven are already thick as thieves, Monty is already sending shy smiles at Miller, and Octavia is the weird glue that keeps them all annoyed together.

They’re all at least a drink in when Octavia turns to Lexa and Nate with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry we tried to play and then expose you.”

Nate and Lexa smile at each other, before Lexa nods at Octavia. “Well, we played you right back, so I guess we’re even.”

Anya snorts from beside Raven. “They played circles around you. Your little team never knew what hit ‘em.”

Lexa mirrors Anya’s smirk and directs it at Clarke. “That’s kind of true.”

“It is kinda true,” Clarke laughs, wrapping an arm around Lexa’s waist and squeezing it lovingly. She leans into Lexa’s embrace and places a kiss on the curve of her jaw. “I’m just happy we got here.”

They get lost in each other and it’s only when someone clears their throat loudly — Nate, with a shit-eating grin to boot — that the link between their eyes breaks and they acknowledge the rest of the group.

“So,” the businessman starts, having fun with their embarrassment. “What’s next for you two?”

Clarke takes Lexa’s hand and entwines their fingers. “I’ll be leaving for three months for a medicine re-entry program. It sucks to be away from Lexa, but…” She squeezes Lexa’s hand and smiles at the brunette. “We made this decision together. We’re ready to wait a trimester if it means we get a lifetime at the end of that rainbow.”

“Wow, that was gay,” Raven comments. “And gross.”

 

* * *

 

“My mom wants to meet you.”

They’re standing by the windows. Planes move below them, people run around them, flight announcements fill the air above them. Time stands still, though, and all that really exists in that moment are Clarke and Lexa.

“I would love to meet your mom, Clarke,” Lexa replies with a soft smile. It’s weird, how shy they are right now, obviously unused to bidding each other goodbye. “Come back quickly and you can introduce us.”

Clarke nods, a small smile on her lips, the same old warmth welling up in her chest whenever Lexa shows such care, such fondness. “I will.” She brushes a strand of hair from Lexa’s eyes and tucks it behind a beautiful, petite ear. “I really do love you, you know?”

“I do.”

“Good. That’s good.” She huffs, frustrated at not being able to find the words to connect her jumbled thoughts. At last she looks at Lexa through her eyelashes, hopeful yet fearful in a way she knows she needn’t be. “Wait for me?”

“Always.”

Clarke huffs again, half a laugh mixed with it this time, and takes Lexa’s beautiful, wonderful, lovely face between her hands. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

Lexa chuckles at her exasperation and she loves her just a tiny bit more for it. “It’s a special talent.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am.”

Clarke groans, throwing her hands in the air, which only causes Lexa to laugh harder. “Stop that! Stop being perfect! How can I say goodbye when you’re being like that?” Lexa doesn’t stop laughing though and Clarke can’t stifle a wide grin. She perches her arms on Lexa’s shoulders and plays with the baby hairs in the back of Lexa’s neck, effectively shutting the girl up. Lexa’s hands come up to rest on her hips. “Three months fly by in an instant, right?” she repeats the question she asked in Lexa’s couch not so long ago and Lexa once again nods in agreement. She kisses those full lips with passion and only stops when her lungs are screaming for air. “I’m either very sad to be leaving you or very generous with my kisses.”

Lexa smirks. “There’s a third option, you know?”

Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh really? And what is it?”

Lexa’s lips tear into a stupidly beautiful, wide beam. “You’re very much in love with me.” Clarke scoffs and earns the trace of a nose over her cheek, until full lips take hers in a chaste kiss. “Don’t worry,” Lexa whispers against her lips, forehead leaning on her own. “I am very much in love with you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go omg how is this ending already o.o in the last one, we'll have a time jump, Clarke's paintings, Abby, and an indecent proposal ;)


	23. "there is nothing wrong with the way you love"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this today, the day of this story's two-year anniversary. I did it, yay (it's still April 2nd in several countries)!
> 
> As ever, all mistakes are mine.

Three months do fly by in an instant.

Between focusing all her energies on her re-entry program and talking to Lexa whenever possible, Clarke didn’t even feel the time passing and just as soon as she’d settled down in Colorado, she was preparing to leave and going back home. Back to Lexa.

Not a lot changed after the trial for Clarke, but she’s relieved that people no longer insult her out of the blue for what she used to do. On Lexa’s side, there were a lot of changes, albeit expected — the most important ones being that Roan has taken over Azgeda and Titus has been relieved of his duties, now that people know who he is, and Octavia has taken over after his departure.

It’s a curious development, but Clarke is not that surprised. Octavia needs to navigate the greys from a black and white perspective. This job lets her do just that.

With time, the headlines craze started waning. The best ones came out right after the trial, anyway. Clarke personally insisted on keeping a newspaper first page splashed with the title, “LGBT-Coup.” Lexa was especially fond of, “Alexandria Woods: pretty and witty and gay.”

There were pretty bad ones, though. “The Gay Bang Theory” and “The Theory of Gay-verything” were quite cringe-worthy. So was “LGBTake That,” to be honest. “Gayvolution” was pretty unimaginative and the jury is still out on “Stroke of Gaynius.” Everything else was pretty cheesy. Regardless, it was amazing to witness how much coverage the trial got. All in all, what Lexa did was groundbreaking. Clarke’s girlfriend has the ability to change the world, and it makes her the proudest person in the world.

The media did get quite loud when Clarke moved to Colorado, thinking that she and Lexa had broken up, but the rumour mill was quickly silenced by a few choice Instagram posts — Skyping with Lexa, missing Lexa, that sort of thing. Lexa couldn’t dispel the rumours herself, because she doesn’t have any social media accounts. And why, one might ask? Because she one day almost posted a compromising picture on her brand new Instagram account when she was trying to send it to Clarke. That was the day Lexa swore off social media and its “vile influence on the human psyche”.

She hasn’t heard from Jasper or Bellamy again. Frankly, it’s a relief. Lexa has helped her cleanse her heart of their influence and now she doesn’t need or want them in her life anymore. Their overreliance on her was unhealthy, as was the fact that they always blamed her when something went wrong. Without them, Clarke feels much lighter.

Her mother has been bugging her endlessly, making all sorts of teasing ultimatums regarding dinner with Lexa. Clarke has told her, time and again, that it will have to wait until she’s back — well, she’s back now. So she guesses they will have to undergo the torture of dinner with her mom. Which is usually a lot of fun, since she and Abby have a wonderful relationship, but… Lexa and her mother together? Abby will either hate Lexa or love her — and both prospects are terrifying, for very different reasons.

Clarke finally spots her luggage and grabs it when it slides over. She pulls it up, then sets it down and extends the handle, and begins her way towards the waiting area. It’s a couple of minutes later that she sees a crowd gathered around the waiting lobby and she searches the swarm of nameless faces until—

Lexa.

Finally, Lexa.

Three months later, Lexa.

_Lexa._

Clarke barely holds on to her luggage when she takes off running towards her girlfriend. Lexa stalks over to her as well and they clash in a hug, Clarke’s arms wrapping around Lexa’s neck and the brunette’s circling her waist, each pulling the other closer, closer, closer, until they are one but for the barriers of their bodies.

She buries her nose in Lexa’s neck, breathing in the fragrance of her girlfriend’s perfume, as though the lines of Lexa have blurred in her mind and she’s trying to restore the fading picture in her mind. The touch, the sight, the smell, the taste, the feeling. Her fingers splay on both sides of a long, delicate neck and memorise the goose bumps that form with their touch. Her lips kiss flowers on the hinge of Lexa’s jaw, then her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and finally her lips, as she drinks Lexa in for the first time in three months. She has no idea how they survived being without each other for such an eternity, but here they are now, real and palpable and together again. And Clarke is certainly not going to break into song in the middle of the airport, but oh, they’re _reunited and it feels so good_.

“I love you, I love you, I fucking love you, _please_ never let me leave again,” she mumbles against Lexa’s lips, once their kiss has met a brief reprieve. Lexa chuckles breathily and kisses her again in lieu of a response. Eventually, they have to breathe, what with it being a bare necessity and all, but their foreheads remain touching, the tips of their noses sometimes bopping against one another. Clarke brushes her thumb over Lexa’s chin and moves her hands downwards, sliding over the centre of Lexa’s chest and separating at her belly, only to wind up together behind the brunette’s back. Clarke kisses Lexa’s cheek and props her chin on a soft shoulder, which she doesn’t resist kissing. “We should get married.”

Lexa leans back and finds her eyes. Oh, those eyes. She has missed them dearly; how green and vibrant they are, their many shades and emotions. How they read Clarke’s every tell and tell Clarke everything. And that sculpted eyebrow quirked up so beautifully. “Are you proposing?”

Clarke smirks. “I’ll save it for when I have a ring. But I’m serious,” she adds. “After everything we’ve been through, the calm and the turmoil, I don’t doubt for a second that we’re ready to spend our lives together. And— isn’t marriage just a symbolical step, anyway? Joining bank accounts, joining our lives, making it official. Give me a few months to settle at the hospital and I’ll put a ring on it.”

“And they say that I am the emotionally constipated one”, Lexa smiles wryly.

“I’ll be romantic when I’ve had sleep and a few orgasms. Till then, I’m all business.”

“Business is hot.”

“Why do you think I wanna marry you?" Lexa laughs and Clarke swoons like the first time. "I also want to have kids, just so you know. At least one."

"I would like that," Lexa nods. "As long as you carry them."

Clarke snorts. "The hospital can't afford to lose a doctor for several months. You, however, can work from home all you want."

"Clarke, it's not like I can just do whatever I want."

"But you can, 'cause you're the boss."

"It doesn't work like that," Lexa counters with a roll of her eyes. Clarke crosses her arms.

"Do you want me to leave halfway through a surgery because my water just broke?"

"That's ridiculous." Lexa rolls her eyes again and it takes Clarke back to the time when that was her girlfriend's only means of communication. It's fonder, now, though. More familiar, too. Lexa's stare turns serious, then. "Clarke, nothing you say can make me carry that baby."

(Lexa carries the baby.)

Unaware of the future, Clarke pouts. "I still need sleep and dinner to come up with a proper proposal. Orgasms too, if you want me to add some romance to the recipe. You know what they say, I'll buy you a ring if you buy me dinner."

"I don't think anyone has ever said that." Long fingers entwine with hers and pull on her hand. “Come on, future wife,” Lexa urges, kissing her cheek. “Let’s go home, so you can be more romantic.”

_Home._

 

* * *

 

Romance is forgotten the moment they open the door.

Clothes are shed somewhere between the entrance and the bedroom, along corridors and in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. Soon they’re both in just their underwear and bras, and standing by Lexa’s bed — and it’s home, because it’s with Lexa.

Lexa stops them before they can go any further and cups her cheeks, gentle fingers holding her face as though it’s made of the finest porcelain. “I love you,” Lexa breathes, barely a whisper, and like everything else Lexa says, Clarke hears it loud and clear regardless. Lexa takes her lips in a soft, loving kiss — the kind of softness Lexa has just for her, and Clarke’s chest brims with warmth.

True to their dynamic, Clarke sucks on Lexa’s lower lip, then bites at it teasingly, eliciting a gasp, and takes the chance to explore Lexa’s mouth with her tongue, deepening the kiss. The sense of urgency increases and Clarke takes full control, guiding Lexa rearward to the bed. The brunette, being the stupidly fit person she is, just steps backwards into a knelt position on the bed and pulls Clarke with her, and moments later, they’re both kneeling in the middle of the bed, making up for three months of dry lips and empty hands.

Clarke leans farther in, causing Lexa to angle back, and wraps a hand under one of Lexa’s knees, the other palming the small of the brunette’s back, and pulls the leg closer to her. Lexa doesn’t relent, though, and pushes against Clarke’s lips until they’re both upright again. They’re both too eager for the feel of each other to wholly relinquish control.

“I want you naked,” she mumbles against Lexa’s lips, each second away from them a second too long.

“Make me.”

Gladly. Clarke keeps one hand on the small of Lexa’s back and brings the other to the clasp of a simple, black bra — still sexy as hell — and undoes it. The ends fall apart and only then does Lexa break their kiss, so she can slide the straps down her shoulders and arms and hands and toss it away. Meanwhile, Clarke unclasps her own bra and throws it away too. Clarke anticipates what she knows Lexa wants to do and does it herself — she takes one of Lexa’s breasts in her hand, palms it, feels its weight, squeezes it; and takes its stiff nipple between her lips. The ragged breath she hears slip from Lexa’s lips is absolutely everything.

She lavishes the breast in her mouth with love and, as she goes to give the other one the same care, shivers when she feels one of her own nipples being rolled between Lexa’s dexterous fingers. Her shiver turns full-bodied when Lexa’s hands wrap around the seam of her panties and tear them in half, thus ridding Clarke of them. Not willing to be one-upped by her girlfriend, Clarke fists the seam of Lexa’s underwear and pulls— and nothing happens.

Her indignant gasp turns into a scowl when Lexa starts laughing at her mishap. She shuts full lips with a kiss and stutters when hands close over her own on Lexa’s panties and give a hard tug. The fabric rips and finally, _finally_ they’re both fully naked and bare to each other, to be explored and charted and sketched under lips and fingers and tongues.

There’s a moment — a pause, a slight reprieve. A beat. Everything stops and Clarke lets herself be sucked in by the intensity of Lexa’s eyes. The backs of soft yet bony fingers caress her cheek and she holds the hand to her face, leaning against it, feeling the reality and presence of the person she holds dearest. Her other hand grabs the nape of Lexa’s neck and her fingers tangle in the baby hairs there, before she pulls Lexa to her and their lips meet again. Each time is truly better than the last.

She lets her nails scrape Lexa’s neck lightly, a caress that has the brunette humming with delight. Clarke shifts her hands down, lets them glide towards Lexa’s back, up and down, until hook under and behind Lexa’s shoulders and settle over them, bringing Lexa closer to her. Clarke places a leg between both of Lexa’s and shivers when the skin f her thigh touches the wetness there. She lowers herself and her breath comes out ragged as she coats Lexa’s left thigh with her own arousal. Lexa isn’t faring any better.

Lexa’s hands, always stronger than they look, settle on her hips and the pads of tender fingers press on the supple flesh like they can’t bear to let go. Lexa is the rock Clarke holds on to as the river rushes, whizzes, and thrashes around her, trying to make her lose her footing. It’s both humbling and elevating to realise that she can be the same for Lexa. It’s the final push she needs to lose herself in the moment.

Clarke swipes her hips up, stroking Lexa’s thigh with need. Lexa’s hands aid her movement and she encourages, with soft, muffled words that are for nobody’s ears other than Lexa’s, the brunette to move as well. They start a synchronized dance; grasping fingers, gaping mouths, and gasping voices, a desperate push and pull that sends their minds careening through a haze of unquantifiable pleasure. Clarke grinds on Lexa’s already slick legs, while Lexa does the same on hers, and it’s exhilarating, how much she _feels_. She feels everything — the mind-numbing friction of her core on Lexa’s thigh, the glide of Lexa’s lips and clit on her leg, the coiling and unwinding of the muscles of Lexa’s shoulders and back, the sweetness of Lexa’s skin under her lips, tongue, and teeth, the whimpers Lexa whispers into her ear, the hairs of Lexa’s arms that stand at attention with each swipe, the goose bumps on her own skin as she feels Lexa’s hot breath on her neck, the muscles of Lexa’s legs working with veiled power at every thrust, the flexing grip of Lexa’s fingers on her hips, the constant brush of their nipples; the rhythmic, ballad-like fervour of each movement.

There is romance in the urgency to see the one you love break in front of you. Because of you.

In the midst of the gasps, groans, whimpers, and moans, Clarke finds the clarity to trail her lips up the side of Lexa’s neck and place a kiss on the hinge of that sharp jaw. The gesture, so simple and unstudied, injects greater speed and ardour into Lexa’s movements, an effect that effects Clarke’s own upheaval. She holds Lexa even closer and lets her grinding become frantic. It is with limbs wrapped around each other, panted words clinging to their lips, and teeth closing over sweating flesh that finally, _finally_ Clarke feels the precipice that has been building between them reach its peak — and they jump off it, pleasure swathing their bones, and drop like meteors, burning cries torn from their throats, and land like feathers, as the ground below them embraces them and the world subtly adjusts so that everything makes sense again.

Clarke is back in Lexa’s arms and Lexa is back in hers and all the pieces of her life have fallen into place.

 

* * *

 

The bell is what wakes Lexa. She stirs, opens her eyes, gets used to the light flooding the room. She never gets tired of the view from her bed; the way Central Park extends almost beyond her view and is encased by skyscrapers and streets and people running their way through life — yet everything is so small, from her tower, and she feels like a ruler watching over those at her guard.

“Gustus,” she calls. “Who is at the door?”

“I do not know, Miss Woods,” her AI butler replies. “Do you want me to describe them?”

She shifts, so Clarke’s front is no longer against her back and the blonde is now curled into her side. “Yes, please.”

“Gender: male. Ethnicity: white or filippino. Height: five foot ten. Hair: black and curly. Eyes: dark brown. Distinctive features: freckles.”

She sighs, knowing exactly who is there to disrupt her peace. “Tell him to please wait.”

“Yes, Miss Woods.”

Clarke rouses then and Lexa gets distracted watching the endearing way she rubs at her eyes, stretches her bent arms, finds Lexa’s belly with an open palm.

“Babe… What’s going on?” It’s sleepy and raspy and beautiful. Lexa loves her more each day.

“I think Bellamy is at the door.” Lexa kisses the top of a suddenly alert Clarke’s head. “Stay here, I will see what he wants. You don’t have to see him.”

Threads of sleepiness keep Clarke’s eyelids at half-mast and her movements slow. She nods. “Be careful.”

Lexa pecks her lops and can’t help a small smile that is immediately matched by Clarke. “I will.”

She stands up with much reluctance and grabs some underwear, sweats, and a t-shirt from the drawers that Clarke has taken up more than half of over the months. She gets dressed and starts the lazy trek towards the front door, picking up the stray clothes that sprinkle the corridors and give her that warm, fuzzy feeling as she remembers the night before.

Her mood dampens considerably when she reaches the door and she has to take a deep breath before opening it. When she does, she meets Bellamy Blake’s furrowed brow.

He looks terrible. His jaw is now covered by a thick beard that some women might think is sexy, but she simply finds it unsanitary. His hair is even more unkempt than usual and there are bags under his eyes, which look devoid of the anger they once shone with — now, they are just empty. She doesn’t feel bad for him, not after what he did to Clarke.

When he doesn’t say anything, she raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing here, Mr Blake?”

He frowns deeper. “Hum. Is Clarke there?”

She doesn’t allow her expression to belie her answer. “No.”

“Oh, thank god.”

She is sure that her eyebrows are practically touching her hairline. “Excuse me?”

He scoffs. “Come on, Lexa.”

“It’s Miss Woods to you,” she corrects, glaring daggers at him.

“Whatever. Look, you can’t really tell me that you expected it to last. Right?” He smirks. “I mean… I bet she misses this,” he adds, grabbing at his crotch. “Girls like girls until they realise that girls don’t have what boys do.”

Lexa’s fingers hurt from how hard she’s gripping the door. “If you say that again,” she growls lowly, “I will rip that tic-tac dick off your marble-sized balls and feed it to the monkeys in the Central Park zoo.”

With that, she closes the door in his face. She looks at the screen that shows the camera feed for the outside of her door and watches with great satisfaction as he blanches and swallows. She smirks when he seems to get his bearings back and goes back to knocking.

“Le- Miss Woods, please, I’m sorry. Please open the door, I—“ She cuts off his pleading by opening the door and his shoulders sag in relief. “Look, I’m sorr—“

He hasn’t got the third word out when the door slams in his face again. Lexa reckons it’s petty, but it feels too good to regret it.

“Gustus, tell him to leave or I will call the police,” she orders as she starts to walk back to her room — back to Clarke.

“Will do, Miss Woods.”

 

* * *

 

“Babe.”

Lexa’s throat bobs nervously up and down and Clarke can’t help a smirk at the sight. The big, bad Alexandria Woods, who commands a group of thirteen wealthy companies and staged a revolution in the business world just three months ago can’t get a grip on her nerves at the thought of meeting Clarke’s mother. It’s endlessly cute.

“Babe.” When Lexa doesn’t seem to listen again, she grabs her hand. It works instantly. Lexa turns her vulnerable, viridian gaze to her and she meets it with steady confidence and an encouraging smile. “You’re gonna be alright.” Lexa opens her mouth to speak, but Clarke beats her to the punch. “Yes, I can know that, because I know you and my mother like no one else does. And I know she will love you. I’m actually slightly scared of it. So really, I should be the nervous one here.”

Lexa’s eyes soften and Clarke entwines their fingers, taking a deep breath as she look at the house sat in front of them.

“Let’s go.”

Seconds later, they’re knocking on her mother’s door and the woman must have been practically waiting behind it, because it opens right away. There stands Abby Griffin, arms open and stretched, inviting.

A smile breaks out on Clarke’s lips and she steps into her mother’s hug, letting go of Lexa’s hand. There’s nothing quite like a mother’s arms. “Oh, honey,” Abby delights in her ear, and Clarke only holds her tighter. “I missed you so much. Welcome back.”

“Thanks, mom,” she says, her voice muffled by her mother’s hair. “I missed you too.”

Abby pulls away and cups Clarke’s face, eliciting a good-natured eye roll. “Let me look at you. Have you been eating properly?”

“Yes, mom. I have another mother hen at home. And on that note,” she steps back and smiles at Lexa as she takes the brunette’s hand in hers again. She nods encouragingly and Lexa steps forward. “This is Lexa. My girlfriend.”

Lexa extends her hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Mrs Griffin.”

“Please,” Abby scoffs and brings Lexa in for an unexpected hug that has Lexa looking like a deer caught in the headlights. She returns it awkwardly. When Abby pulls back, she inspects Lexa much like she did with Clarke. “Rule number one, call me Abby. You’re very… bony.” She ignores Clarke’s indignant cry of ‘mom!’. “Have you been eating well?”

“I have, Abby. Clarke makes sure of that.”

Abby lets go and smiles happily. “I’m glad to know you take care of each other.” She points a warning finger at Lexa. “Don’t let Clarke skip any meals.”

“Mom!”

“I shan’t,” Lexa nods dutifully, also ignoring Clarke.

“And make sure her diet is balanced.”

“ _Mom!_ ”

“I will, Abby.”

“Good. Welcome to the family, Lexa.”

 

* * *

 

It’s exactly as she feared. Abby _loves_ Lexa already.

The two of them have been sharing cooking and baking tips and embarrassing stories about Clarke as she watches on, powerless to stop the insufferable love fest. She will never admit that it fills her heart with happiness and love to see that the two most important people in her life are getting along.

The meal ends and Lexa offers to help clean up the table and wash the dishes, but she’s quickly ushered away to the couch by Clarke and Abby. She washes the dishes while her mom dries them and they do it silently, in that comfortable lull that comes from having known someone your whole life — or loving them like you have. Clarke can’t help her gaze from flitting to Lexa at that thought.

“Can you see that I love her?” she asks her mom, her tone all but dreamy. It would be embarrassing if it weren’t _Lexa_ she was talking about.

Her mom chuckles in response. “From a mile away. You’re quite obvious, honey. But… So is she.”

“She makes me happy,” Clarke agrees. “And I’m pretty sure that I make her happy, too.”

Abby hums, continuing to swipe the cloth over a pristine plate. “So when can I expect grandchildren?”

“Mom!”

 

* * *

 

“Now, that wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Lexa smiles at her, crooked and endearing. “Is this I told you so, Clarke?”

Clarke squeezes the hand laced with hers. “No, this is thank you.” They walk to the car and Lexa kisses her cheek before opening the door to the passenger’s side. Clarke walks around the car and, once she’s sitting behind the wheel, takes Lexa’s hand in hers again. “Thank you for making the effort.”

“Your mom is lovely,” Lexa says sincerely, then smirks a little. “Yes, I almost had a stroke in the hours leading to the dinner, but every moment during and after was wonderful.”

“You don’t know how much that means to me.” She lets go of Lexa’s hand and starts the car. She pulls off the curb and starts driving home, although with a slightly different destination in mind.

A half hour later, she’s stopping the car in front of an apartment building. Lexa turns to her with a quizzical frown. “Clarke, my apartment is farther ahead.”

“I know.” Lexa’s frown deepens, but there is a soft curiosity shining behind the confusion that gives Clarke the courage to finally take the next step. “I’d like to show you something.”

They exit the car and Clarke fishes a set of keys from her purse. She opens the door to the building and guides Lexa to the elevator. Lexa must detect her nerves – tapping her nails on the wall at her back is an obvious sign –, for a warm hand holds her own and squeezes it in a show of clear trust.

“I will love anything you have to show me,” Lexa whispers, stepping closer to her and kissing her shoulder. Lexa leaves her lips resting on Clarke’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t rule out some indignation,” Clarke jests, kissing Lexa’s forehead. An eye brow quirks up at her. “I’m deflecting with humor, aren’t I?”

Lexa nods and kisses her neck. “Lucky you that you are not entirely unfunny.”

They exchange soft caresses and words, until the elevator dings with its arrival at the top floor and the doors slide open. She leads the way to the door she knows so well and opens it, revealing the condo she uses as an art studio.

She opens the door wider for Lexa to go in ahead of her and only lets out a breath when she hears the brunette gasp. She enters too and stops just a step ahead of Lexa, so she can properly look at her girlfriend’s face. Eyes wide and jaw slack – yet just as beautiful as always – Lexa is staring at the walls full of paintings, hanging or just stacked against them with awe in her stare, as though she was just shown the greatest secrets of the universe.

“Clarke, are these—“

“My paintings?” Clarke asks, despite knowing that Lexa doesn’t really need the confirmation. “Yeah.”

“They are beautiful, Clarke. Truly.” And the look on Lexa’s face tells her that her girlfriend will always be biased — but it’s so wonderfully reassuring to know that whatever crap you paint, someone will always look at it with awe.

Lexa surveys the condo and finds the easel sitting in the middle of the living room. On it is the painting Clarke was working on before the trial. Lexa stops in front of it and Clarke can see how her fingers itch to touch it. Green eyes lock with Clarke’s.

“Is this… Is this how you see me?”

Clarke crosses the room to stand at Lexa’s side. “Beautiful, inside and out? Obviously.” Lexa shakes her head mindlessly, clearly at a loss. “I only paint truth, Lexa. Or what I perceive to be true. This painting is my eyes.”

Lexa goes to answer, but something else catches her eye. Clarke smirks when she realises what it is. Lexa picks up one of the canvases in the corner and holds it up for Clarke to see.

“Clarke, why do I have horns and a moustache in this one?”

“I told you, you shouldn’t rule out some indignation,” Clarke grins. “I did that one when I was mad at you. It’s my way of coping with my anger in those moments.”

She relishes the indignant frown on Lexa’s face. “Clarke, how is drawing me as a hipster devil supposed to help you cope?”

She can’t help the laugh that breaks free from her lips. Lexa turns the canvas around and continues to inspect it.

“I just need to cool down sometimes,” Clarke explains, but the frown on Lexa’s face doesn’t ease. Has she hurt Lexa’s feelings? “I come here and start painting all this silly stuff. If it helps, I once painted Bellamy drowning in urine. Get it? Pissamy?” Lexa doesn’t even acknowledge the joke, her focus still on the painting, and now Clarke is worried that she might have broken her girlfriend. Her words become more rushed, looking for a way to explain herself out of this quagmire. “I do it to calm down and so I can actually _communicate_ afterwards without lashing out. It’s kind of my safehav—“

“Let’s move in.”

“—what?” Green eyes are now on her and Clarke is puzzled to find no clue of resentment. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Let’s move in,” Lexa repeats, eyes soft and hopeful, burning with a new idea.

“Move in as in here or…?”

“Here.”

“But- what about your apartment? I practically live there anyway.”

Lexa heaves a sigh. “You know that I hate it, Clarke. It’s too pretentious.”

Clarke cocks an eyebrow at her girlfriend. “So you want to move from a multimillion-dollar apartment that looks more like a mansion to an average-priced condo that suffers from chronic lack of space.” She phrases it like a question, but says it like a statement. Lexa nods resolutely.

“We could buy the apartment across from us, have half the floor to ourselves. Maybe the one next door as well, you could use it to stash all your paintings and materials,” Lexa suggests, then turns to the window. “And the view from the tower has nothing on this one. We could do it. I like the idea of you painting in a space that is ours, but also yours. You would paint while I read a book on the couch. While I made dinner. While I worked at a small desk in the corner. If you would like that, of course,” Lexa is quick to add, placing the painting back where it was before. “I would like that. But it is your choice.”

Clarke feels her smile grow. “I would like that.” Lexa mirrors her smile. “What else do you already have planned, Lextra?”

Lexa tilts her head in confusion. “Lextra?”

“Extra Lexa. The more megalomaniac part of yourself.”

Lexa’s scoff is outrageously adorable. “I am not a megalomaniac.”

“You bought an ice rink for our first date,” Clarke notes.

In her girlfriend’s defence, Lexa tries to keep her dignity very convincingly. “I bought it so I could learn how to ice skate. The fact that it overlapped our first date was only a coincidence.”

But Clarke has all the aces in her hand. “Hmm. Must be a coincidence too that you never used it again.” Lexa’s eye roll almost tips the earth upside down. Clarke decides to placate her a bit. “I do appreciate the fact that your Lextra side only comes out to play when I’m involved.”

Lexa steps closer to her and tucks a few stray curls behind her ear. “I do like spoiling you.” They rest their foreheads together. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“This was the part of me I had yet to open up to you about,” she whispers against Lexa’s lips, never quite touching them, as her arms wind around a lithe waist. “I’m serious when I say that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Me too.”

They kiss lightly, just enjoying the presence of each other and the notion of having the time ahead of them to share all kinds of other kisses — that they can be lazy now, for many moments to be hungry will come.

“Thank you, too,” Clarke says when their lips part, her voice huskier than just a moment ago. Lexa tilts her head, confused. “For trusting me. With you.”

Lexa reaches for her again and kisses her, both rough and tender. “I trust you with everything.”

 

* * *

 

The sheets are crumpled around them, barely covering their naked bodies. The bed is not as comfortable as the one at Lexa's apartment, but there is something about the thought that this will be _their_ home soon that makes her rest in it even better. It could also be the fact that this is only the second time they've had sex since she came back and she's remembering just  _how_ addicting sex with Lexa is. Or maybe it's a bit of everything.

Clarke is lying on her back, while Lexa lies beside her, hand on top of her. Tracing gentle fingers along the white stripes on her legs, idly caressing them. She has half a mind to inch away from Lexa's fingers.

"Ugh, stretch marks. I hate them," Clarke groans sleepily, lifting her head from the pillow and dropping back on it.

Lexa frowns, confused. Her fingers halt their movement. "You do?"

"Yeah," Clarke says, like it's obvious. "They're ugly."

Lexa climbs down her body and comes face to face with criss-crossed thighs. Lexa brushes light kisses along each line, lips soft on the marred supple skin.

"I happen to love them. They give me purchase." She demonstrates it by palming one of Clarke's buttocks and pulling on it, digits catching on the barely-there mountain ranges.

Clarke can't prevent the smile that blooms in her lips. Only Lexa can turn a life-long insecurity into something beautiful. "Be glad that I didn't care to apply creams on my legs when I was a kid, then. It was so boring, I couldn't see the use of wasting five precious minutes making my thighs smoother. Fast forward to seventeen years old and it was already too late." She sighs. "I was an early bloomer."

Lexa hums in understanding as her fingertips give chase to yet another winding line across Clarke's thigh. "I was a late bloomer," she recalls. "Didn't get my period until I was sixteen. All of my friends carried pads and tampons around in their purses, chests fully grown, and bodies round and curvy. And I was this boobless, scrawny thing, afraid that I would never be a real woman."

"Hey," Clarke calls, catching Lexa's hand and pulling her up to meet her lips and her gaze. It hurts that Lexa ever thought herself less than anyone else for something so trivial. "You would be a real woman even without your period. Big boobs, a vagina... Or any of those things that society tells us make up a 'real woman'."

She shivers when she meets Lexa's eyes. The brunette is giving her _that_ look, the look that tells her that there is nothing more precious, more awe-inspiring, more _loved_ in Lexa's world than her. And it scares her, for she feels exactly the same. It also assuages all her fears, because for once in her life, she has a safety net. She can fall.

"I love you," Lexa breathes in a whisper, as though those three words are sacred, as though if she says them out loud, their meaning will be lost in the platitudinous quality of an ever too loud, too outspoken, too ordinary world that feels the need to narrate everything, even the mundane. There is value in a whisper; it makes words feel private, intimate — special.

Clarke doesn't resist rewarding those pouty, parted lips with a sweet peck. "I love you too," she says, her voice gravelly with sleep and emotion. She lowers her hand to Lexa's chest and the pad of her thumb brushes a pebbled nipple. "And I love these. They are perfect."

Lexa nuzzles her cheek, smiles against the slope of her jaw. "You are perfect."

"No, I'm not."

"No, you're not," Lexa concurs with a tender smirk as she leans back to meet Clarke's eyes. "But you are perfect for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would mean a lot if you left your feedback in the comments, just for this one last hurrah. Now, let me get deep and emotional.
> 
> This was the first thing I could bring myself to write after 307. It was fun and lighthearted at the beginning, and even when the angst came I was always careful to keep it as light as possible. 307 brought an onslaught of emotions to the whole fandom, most of them negative. This fandom has been wonderful in turning them into something positive. That's how this story was created. These final two chapters were always in the forefront of my head as I planned everything else and they were meant to speak of self-love — love yourself, love who and what you are, love your body. Lexa was always meant to make that grand speech about sexuality, because that's what 307 attacked the most in my opinion. It was horrible to see people who were ready to come out and because of it closed themselves farther inside the closet, for example. So my hope was always that Lexa's speech in the previous chapter would be empowering. I hope this story as a whole was empowering, because it was always about the triumph of queerness over all the obstacles society insists on bringing up around it. I'm not really being able to find the words to describe what I mean tbh. Bottom line: this was a very important (albeit too long, I'll admit, but we can blame that on life) journey and I hope it held even a tenth of the meaning for you as it did for me. Lexa lives on in every piece of fan art, every piece piece of fanfic, every thought of her, every word spoken or written about her, and more — Lexa lives on every time we embrace who we are, be it in or outside the closet. Not to be super sappy, but Lexa lives on in all of us, because she was and still IS a symbol of our struggle, of our fight, of our empowerment, and above all our victories, big and small. She's infinitely bigger than a TV show, because so are we.
> 
> So thank you for reading, and sticking with, this story — and love your stretch marks!


End file.
